


perhaps (not) a word

by letterando



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Moms + 1 Dad Squad, Moms Squad, Platonic Soulmates, Pre-Canon, Queer Character, Queer Families, Queer Friendly, Queerplatonic Relationships, Romantic Soulmates, Sorry Sakaeguchi-san, Soulmates, Team Bonding, Teambuilding, Verbal Abuse, team moms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 14:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15776130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letterando/pseuds/letterando
Summary: AU where your soulmate's most prominent thoughts appear somewhere on your skin.Loosely follows Canon. Ends during the game against Mihoshi. Includes lots of group chats and motherly support.





	perhaps (not) a word

**Author's Note:**

> In the chaos of this summer, which includes WIPs, exams, and family matters, my muse aggressively possessed me for five days and made me write this thing.  
> When I shared it with my beta I hadn't even checked for typos. I'm saying this to give you an idea of how incredibly patient, kind, supportive and awesome my beta-reader has been.  
> You can find them under the name TheNillaWafer here on AO3. Thank you so much dear!  
> Any remaining mistakes are mine!  
> .  
> By the way, I got the inspiration for this AU from "chalk this one up as a win" by tamerofdarkstars. Lovely reading.  
> The title references the poem "A Glimpse" by Walt Whitman.  
> If you catch weird hints about characters or plot twists which don't appear or are not fully developed in this work (especially in the group chat sections, sorry for the lack of funny nicknames, they were supposed to appear later on), it's because they're leftovers of my initial rough outline.  
> Please enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

>  
> 
> A glimpse through an interstice caught, 
> 
> Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room around the stove late of a winter night, and I unremark’d seated in a corner, 
> 
> Of a youth who loves me and whom I love, silently approaching and seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand, 
> 
> A long while amid the noises of coming and going, of drinking and oath and smutty jest, 
> 
> There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little, perhaps not a word.
> 
>                _A Glimpse,_ Walt Whitman

 

    

#  **Prologue**

_Fastball_

_Curveball_

_Fastball_

_Too slow, again_

_Curveball_

_Fastball_

Abe’s soulmate started to thinking about baseball pitches almost exclusively since Abe was eight years old, in the middle of elementary school.

Before, Abe suspected that his soulmate was a mere baseball fan, but this level of single-mindedness made Abe feel quite positive that his soulmate was either a pitcher, a catcher, or a batter.

Abe dismissed the thought of his soulmate being a catcher or a batter when they focused more and more about grips, callouses, backspin, and velocity of pitches.

Thank goodness he and his father had always huge baseball fans, relentless Hanshin Tigers supporters through the highs and lows. So Abe had almost immediately recognized the words ‘fastball’ and ‘curveball’ when they started appearing at the beginning of school.

But back then his soulmate’s thoughts were evenly divided between comics, love for their parents, enthusiasm for their good grades, food, and baseball.

Now there was only love for their parents and baseball. Abe’s soulmate didn’t like lunchtime since his peers apparently took advantage of him and ate most of his lunch. The words that appeared on Abe’s hand didn’t bode well in this regard:

_Eating alone is peaceful, mom’s cooking is so good_

_They only left the salad_

_At least they left me the radish slices this time_

_Maybe they don’t have a bento, that’s why they take from mine_

_I’m hungry_

So, his soulmate’s love for good food was often entangled with the love for his mother and for his parents when they took him out to eat.

Abe was absolutely furious. If his soulmate was older than him, he should speak up and stop letting his classmates eat all his food.

Abe was sure, and his parents supported his supposition, that Abe’s soulmate was still in school (the worst case scenario was that they were in University but were very childish mentally).

Abe saw students of middle school, and even more of high school, to be big and strong and confident. Some girls and guys were very shy, but most of them looked like they would have defended their own food with teeth and nails.

If his soulmate was closer in age, then… Abe didn’t know what they had to do. Eating alone was lonely, Abe avoided it whenever he could. What did Abe do when Hanta tried to eat his bento’s squids and Hanta wouldn’t exchange it for a piece of omelette? He told him off! Yes, that was it. His soulmate needed to speak up! They needed to raise their voice and say clearly “Either we exchange food or nothing. If you want to eat from my bento then I can eat from yours!”

But Abe never saw his words changing to something like a similar solution on the subject of food, and as his soulmate revealed a gentle and submissive personality, Abe got more and more frustrated, angry, and combative.

Most people had to wait to be in their twenties and thirties to understand where their soulmate resided and reached them.

But Abe didn’t care. He was ten years old, he had three years of practice as a catcher under his belt, and he was praised by the school’s coach for his analytical abilities on the field.

He didn’t know how to cook, but he read about diets and what a boy his age should eat to become strong and he ate his fill every day.

Finally, he had a fierce and unyielding personality that he had every intention to hone so that he would support and protect his soulmate adequately when the time came.

The deities had given him a person in the world who would compliment him (“who would accept him,” as Abe’s mother said, “who wouldn’t put up with his whims,” as his father quipped).

A person with whom to share the ups and downs of life.

Some people shared bits and pieces of their soulmates’ emotions, thoughts, sometimes shared one of their senses, dreams, or principles. Abe’s parents said that they would have premonitory sensations about the other’s strong physical and emotional states, such as bursts of enthusiasm, or bouts of illness.

Abe didn’t care about sharing emotions or dreams or what-have-you with his soulmate. Yes, it looked a bit cool in movies and drama series, but as long as Abe could build an honest, trustful relationship with his soulmate, like the one his parents had, that was enough for him. That was more than enough for him.

.

.

.

#  **Middle school**

The situation degenerated in middle school.

At first, Abe’s soulmate had been ecstatic because they played all the time. They got a regular position in a team, most likely. But during the winter of the first years things turned dark.

_I can do it_

_I’ll prove I’m worth something_

_I’ll prove I can stay on the mound_

_I’ll train more_

_I’ll train harder_

_I’ll train more_

_Maybe one day they’ll accept me_

_Maybe they won’t hate me_

At the beginning of the second year of middle school, Abe’s soulmate moved from wishing for acceptance from their teammates to mere recognition. As time wore on, recognition became acknowledgement.

_They hate me so much_

_I’m no good_

_I still want to pitch_

_I’m no good_

_I’m a horrible person_

_I’m sorry_

Abe didn’t know why his soulmate cared so much about pitching.

One of the scenarios he conjured portrayed his soulmate having been selected as a regular because of his skills, but not being able to fulfill the Coach’s expectations. After all, Abe saw several players caving under the pressure of playing consecutive games.

Sometimes, when Abe mused about his soulmate’s life after he happened to listen to his classmates or teammates talk about romantic comedies or after he caught a few scenes himself, he would wonder whether his soulmate had found somebody he loved thanks to baseball, and was now stubbornly clinging to the mound because they were lovesick.

As his soulmate ran themselves rugged with training, Abe challenged himself and pushed his body and his mind day by day. Haruna was a bitch and a half to deal with, but he was older, big, and strong, and thus the best training Abe could hope for.

No matter what his soulmate’s teammates thought, somebody who trained so much couldn’t possibly be so bad as to warrant being completely ignored by their teammates.

Towards the end of his second year of junior high, Abe caught the umpteenth overpowered fastball way out of the zone, and felt sure that no matter how older his soulmate was, he could catch their pitches. Even if his soulmate was a bulky University student, Abe was confident that he could catch his pitches.

Haruna’s wild pitches hadn’t calmed down at all in the two years of their acquaintance, as proved by the fact that the pitcher was still missing the zone seven times out of ten. Yes, his power scared most batters, but his wild aim together with his selfish personality made him an awful pitcher, the worst pitcher in Abe’s eyes. He was good for one thing, and that thing was training Abe to catch wild, out of control, powerful pitches, build his muscles and keep his concentration sharp.

Abe’s soulmate’s words appeared on the back of his right hand. As most sensible people, he kept them covered during the day with a thin fingerless glove. But the glove hindered his grasp on his mitt. Plus, he loved the fact that his soulmate also loved baseball, was a pitcher, and inhabited his same time zone. Since many times during his plays he got pitching-related words on his hand. Although they had gotten so depressing.

As Haruna walked off the field after his 80th pitch during an official match, Abe gritted his teeth painfully and let his eyes fall on his hand for comfort.

_Upper center fastball_

_Lower corner slider, just outside the zone_

_Upper left corner fastball, barely inside_

_Down the center_

_I’m no good_

_But I still want to pitch_

_I’m no good_

_They hate me and they’re right to do so, I’m a horrible person_

_“You’re not a horrible person_ ,” Abe thought, sending daggers into Haruna’s retreating back, seething to the point of shaking.

_“I bet my soulmate pitches ten times better than you and he’s basically bullied by his teammates while you’re here having hissy fits all day and being a selfish bastard.”_

.

.

.

#  **Nishiura High School**

The rudimentary website of Nishiura high school promised the opening of a baseball team the spring Abe graduated from middle school.

Haruna safely tucked in Musashino, and gods, Abe hoped the guys at Musashino wouldn’t put up with Haruna’s selfishness any longer than his ex-teammates did.

Therefore, Abe signed up for Nishiura.

Or, well, first he notified his parents about his choice, then he entered a long-winded useless argument with his father, quarreled with him, got gently scolded by his mother and got reminded that his father was only looking out for his talent as a catcher and for Abe’s happiness.

Eventually, Abe made up with his father, who confessed he had sternly questioned his choice because he was trying to look out for his talent as a catcher, and for Abe’s chances of being satisfied with his chosen high school.

The stormy situation was finally solved with Abe enrolling at Nishiura, and blotting from his memory the week of coddling and parental protectiveness.

Abe visited the baseball grounds every day since the beginning of his spring break The website of Nishiura had been pretty honest. The picture of the field hadn’t been taken through rose-tinted glasses. On the contrary, the abundant grass and flat ground was laid bare, plain, inviting even. Abe felt a tingly sensation in his stomach when he thought about the pitcher or even pitchers who would throw from the mound he would form.

Abe wasn’t even mad about missing his spring break. The exercise was good for him, and he got slightly acquainted with a couple of students. One was short with freckles and sharp-looking eyes, he often passed by the fence of the field. The other was Sakaeguchi  

But mostly Abe was glad that he had the time to shrug off the surprise about his coach. Okay, he got a woman as a coach. She probably got all the crap in the world to deal with for this position. It irked him that she was a complete amateur at being a coach, but that was alright too. His first impression of her had been positive, and if one made mistakes, this was a new experience all around, they would all learn together.

.

.

.

On the first day of school, Abe made his way to the field right after classes ended. He waited outside the fence until he was admitted in by the coach, who had the keys.

Soon afterwards, Tajima and a few others started to trickle in.

Tajima noticed him first. A boy with hair so fair it looked suntanned gold, slightly tanned skin that spoke of long hours in the open air, a slim figure, and big eyes.

“New guy?”

Just as he spoke, Momoe appeared behind the boy, startling him half to death, by the way he jumped. Most of the boys snickered as Momoe dragged the hapless newcomer into the field.

Abe hoped he was just painfully shy. Everything in the boy’s demeanor screamed ‘handle with care’ or even bullied. He had watched a documentary on the issue of bullying in Japanese schools and his father had even enrolled Shun and he in a basic self-defense class for a semester. It was another part of his parents’ protectiveness that he had decided to blot from his memory (Shun agreed with him), even though he admitted to himself that the class had proved useful in understanding his body and muscles and had drilled into him the importance of stretches and light daily workouts even more than baseball had done (Shun agreed with him too).

The newcomer was tense with nervousness or even fear; his eyes were shifty, didn’t land on anybody, and his hands were shaking slightly.

Abe thanked every deity that all their senpais were loyal to their clubs and nobody from the upper classes wanted to join the new baseball team with a majority of first years, else they would have had fun teasing and intimidating this scaredy-cat even more. Though the guy’s demeanor was so sheepish that Abe hoped they didn’t have any bullies amongst themselves either.

When the newcomer said that he was a pitcher, Abe fought the urge to sigh.

First Haruna and now this guy. Why couldn’t he have nice things?

But it was alright, Abe thought peeking between the string of his mitt, reading the intermittent, now familiar sentence

_I’m no good_

_I’m no good_

_I’m no good_

_I want to pitch_

This was another opportunity to train and become a great, versatile catcher who could catch for all kinds of pitchers. His soulmate was a hard-working player, he was no doubt very powerful. Abe just had to be patient and wait for a thought that indicated where they lived or who moved in their circle of friends.

Strengthened by the sight of his soulmate’s words, Abe’s voice sounded steady when he introduced himself.

As Hanai commented on Momoe’s gender (perhaps his mother didn’t update the calendar and his family lived back in the last century), Abe tried to capture the pitcher, Mihashi’s, gaze. To do what, he didn’t clearly know himself. He wanted to convey… something. Some sort of reassurance?

“ _You don’t need to skitter like that in front of us, we won’t eat you alive._ ” Or a confirmation. “ _Is this your personality or are you just feeling very shy right now?_ ”

During the spring break, Momoe and Abe had trained a bit among themselves. Abe knew Momoe had an exceptional arm, if not an acceptable accuracy and a couple of nice breaking balls.

Momoe’s jaw-dropping strength in providing Hanai with an instantly fresh, hand-squeezed glass of orange juice had been excessive according to Abe, most of his teammates were scared shitless now, but, well, better _squeeze_ the stupidity out of their heads sooner rather than later.

Metaphorically speaking, of course…

As the others quivered in fear, Abe decided it was time to approach the pitcher. A skittish pitcher was tons better than no pitcher at all!

Needless to say, Abe did _not_ like the response he got, and was thoroughly lost when the boy started to cry.

What the hell, did somebody said something to him when he was catching the ball for Momoe?

Then the pitcher said that his pitches were too slow and Abe wondered if the nerves of pitchers truly were so unstable. First Haruna and his unpredictable moods, fifty shades of rage, now this guy and his frail nerves and tears because his pitches were slow.

No problem, they had lots of time to train, they would become strong together, Mihashi for his own well-being, to gain confidence, and Abe for his soulmate!

But as the pitcher revealed that he was a regular, and because of favoritism, Abe fought back a grimace. An ace because of favoritism was _not_ good at all. The guy didn’t look spoiled, but what if it had been his grandfather who had forced him to stay in the team for his own grand dreams of playing professionally? There had been a guy like that at Abe’s junior high school. A hitter who kept pushing himself to become a clean-up, way over his body’s limits, uncaring of tearing his muscles and of exhaustion, because his father had dreamed of joining the pro league, but failed.

Finally, Mihashi spit out the fact that he had been Mihoshi’s ace because he hadn’t wanted to quit the club, and moreover he hadn’t given up the mound once in three years.

“ _Amazing!_ ” Was Abe’s first thought. But if what Mihashi had said was true, if his team hadn’t won in a long time because of him and his teammates had come to hate baseball because of him, then they had a problem.

“You’re really annoying,” said Abe, ignoring Mihashi’s full body flinch as he kept crying. “I don’t know why you put yourself down like that but not wanting to give the mound up is a good thing. It makes you look like a jerk, that’s for sure, but you’re the type of pitcher I like.”

_Though you also need to think about your teammates and about what’s best to do for you all to win, and if it means leaving the mound to a better pitcher, then…_

Well, at least the guy consented to try and pitch for them in demonstration, so at least Abe could see for himself how ‘bad’ he was.

When he came back from grabbing his chest-plate and helmet, he found Mihashi placidly waiting on the mound. His relaxed expression looked serene and peaceful and Abe liked the boy’s small smile when Abe told him how he had wondered about the pitcher who would have formed a battery with him, back when he was gathering the soil for the mound.

Unfortunately, he immediately set off the boy’s tears again when he complimented him on him keeping his skills trained. Or, well, if he even had any skills. Maybe the boy’s only redeemable quality was his stubbornness for not leaving the mound. But no, that became a vice if it hindered the whole team for nothing.

Abe crouched down with his gear and his mask and took a second to look at the back of his hand.

_I’m no good_

_They’ll throw me out_

_I really want to pitch_

He took a steady, deep breath. It was alright, this was the first day of high school. Abe was going to become the best catcher this country had ever seen, and he would enhance his soulmate’s skills until everybody recognized him.

Mihashi raised his leg. His form was average, not very smooth. He threw. His pitch _was_ slow. And low. Abe was about to lower his mitt when the ball seemed to rise up just slightly, and connected with the dead center of his mitt.

What.

Did the ball just…

Did he pitch…

A tingling sensation started from the top of his head and reached the base of his spine, making him shiver a bit. He needed to see that again. He _wanted_ to see that again. To _feel_ that again.

When he regained his wits, Mihashi was walking off in tears.

Abe prepared his mitt in the left side center, barely in the zone. After hesitating --

_(I want to pitch_

_I want to pitch_

_I want to pitch)_

\-- the fair-haired boy dutifully wound up his leg and threw.

Dead center. That looked like a breaking ball, a slider?

Abe moved his mitt to the lower left corner.

Dead center. Another breaking ball. That was definitely a curve. Nice slope to it.

Abe moved his mitt in the upper half of the zone, center.

Dead center. That was the first pitch! Was that Mihashi’s fastball? What was that with that strange floaty illusion-like motion it did at the end?

Abe called for an outside, barely-there shoot and got a nice shuuto that looked like a mix between a shuuto and a proper slider. Perk of being a Japanese pitcher, he guessed. Then he asked for a center pitch, and got the floaty fastball again.

It didn’t look and feel less amazing that the first time he got it. He loved that pitch.

And the accuracy!

He called three more pitches before he couldn’t hold his excitement anymore.

Abe shot upright and pushed his lips together to prevent himself from screaming his happiness. Pin-point accuracy every time. He never had to adjust his mitt!

“Mihashi!!!”

He was so happy he didn’t even care he startled the pitcher an inch from his life.

_Something like this?_

_Probably a curveball??_

_Probably a shuuto?_

_The other one’s supposed to be a slider??_

What was with all the ‘probably’ and ‘supposed to be’?! And his shuuto was weird, but his fastball was the weirdest. And the most interesting!

He wanted this pitcher to be in their team!

“Is that how you were coached to pitch?”

“I was… never… taught…”

Welp. Alright, now things made sense.

He needed something to convince Mihashi to join the team. An at-bat would have been the fastest route, of course. But who was best to challenge?

Tajima was the Tajima from Arakawa Sea Breams. He was supposed to be a great hitter, very accurate in his batting. Shun loved the heck out of him, almost idolized the guy.

Abe wasn’t completely confident he could strike out Tajima in a three at-bat challenge. Hanai, however… He seemed like he had a short fuse, he struck an imposing figure for a first year, and he had the reputation of a clean-up hitter. He would do nicely.

 _“You want to quit, huh? Are you sure about that_?” Thought Abe evilly, as he started riling up the boy.

Hanai soon confirmed Abe’s assumption about his short fuse, and coincidentally Abe also got his answer regarding Tajima’s fortuitous enrollment at Nishiura. He lived basically in the school’s backyard. Thank the deities!

Abe ignored Mihashi’s shaking and tearful eyes as he half-dragged him to the dug out.

“Which signs are you used to? I’ll learn them.”

Mihashi hunched his shoulders even more, a bead of sweat gathered on his temple.

“The-The last time… I received signs… tryouts…. First year… at Mihoshi.”

“Seriously?” Abe couldn’t help but shout, making Mihashi jump. He had a vague sense of foreboding that this would have been a regular occurrence. He wasn’t even shouting that loud though. That was his normal volume. His coach back in junior high and some senpai screamed much louder all the time.

“Why?”

“The catcher…. Didn’t like me much… I think…”

 _Yeah, no shit_. He couldn’t help but think.

Oh, that’s right: favoritism, he suddenly remembered. That made sense. But not completely. A catcher would have noticed Mihashi’s pin-point accuracy and quirky fastball, and after that, well, it was sheer stupidity not take advantage of that. What kind of stupid moron played catcher at Mihoshi junior high?!

But he refrained from saying so. Maybe they had a fall out because of other reasons. Maybe Mihashi’s pitch truly was just a slow pitch without backspin before he trained his accuracy and breaking balls.

He looked at the words on his hand as Mihashi tried to take several deep breaths, looking out at hopefully (their) new teammates.

_I want to pitch_

_But I’m no good_

_I’ll make him lose_

_I’ll have to apologize properly_

“That guy… is a clean up hitter,” Mihashi muttered.

Abe turned towards Hanai and didn’t bother keeping his confidence out of his voice as he explained how Hanai batted.

“I’m… sorry…”

Oh, goddammit, was Mihashi backing down now? Didn’t he hear Abe’s confidence right now, didn’t he take a tad bit of comfort from that?

“Because of me… You’ll lose too…”

 _Not with your pitches I won’t._ Abe thought, and went on to reassure that he would make Mihashi a true ace.

“In return, pitch exactly the way I tell you. I hate pitchers who shake their heads.”

Mihashi’s personality couldn’t be further than Haruna’s. But pitchers had odd personalities, and he was sure that Mihashi would have developed a taste for shaking his head to his signs very soon. After all, Abe wasn’t like Mihashi’s moronic ex-catcher. Once he got used to winning, it was a matter of time before he built up the confidence needed to become a real pain in the ass, throwing hissy fits just like Haruna did.

The boy’s shoulders shook once before stilling completely.

Abe scrutinized him.

His hair was messy, of a truly light color, and now he noticed that his eyes were of a very similar color. They were clear, almost shimmery, in the shade of the dug out. His puffy cheeks were flushed and his strong-looking fingers clutched his thighs tightly. He looked like a person Abe would have been curious to befriend in any other context.

“Ok. Let’s go over some signs, shall we?” Mihashi nodded enthusiastically.

“This is the slider, this for the curveball, this for the shuuto, and this for your fastball.” He almost snickered as he mentioned Mihashi’s fastball. It wasn’t a real fastball at all, but he didn’t want to throw off Mihashi before the contest by telling him harsh truths. That could come later.

“Four areas for the strike zone, right? Lower right, lower left. And these are upper right, upper left.” Abe wouldn’t have discussed the zone if he had got another pitcher. But Mihashi showed perfect accuracy, so it was better to clear things up now.

Would praise Mihashi’s accuracy ready him well for the contest against Hanai?

“And this for the center, of course. All clear?” He looked up, and found Mihashi sweating profusely and looking like he was on the verge of bawling his eyes out.

“Oi, what’s wrong? If I’m going too fast just tell me so! I’ll repeat the signs!”

But Mihashi shook his head vehemently and whispered, sniffling,

“I… I…”

Mihashi hiccupped and Abe grit his teeth and gathered his patience by peeking at his words. He was used to keeping his hand tilted on his lap so its back wouldn’t be visible to his interlocutor.

_I’m no good_

_I’m going to lose anyway_

_I’ll be thrown out_

“I divide… the zone…. By three…”

Wait a moment. What did Mihashi just say?

“NINE PARTS?!” Shouted Abe instinctively.

Did he even hear correctly? That couldn’t be! There weren’t many pros who did that!

But, wait, if Mihashi’s zone was truly divided into nine parts, his precision was all the more astonishing then!

With his peripheral vision he noticed that he had attracted the attention of a couple of their teammates, but Mihashi’s nodding was far more important. He looked white as a sheet, shaking all over, but Abe couldn’t summon the will to care, he was already trying to recall which signs were used in the NPB.

Pitching so accurately with a nine-partitioned zone! He shivered in excitement.

Screw any other school and screw letting Mihashi quit the team. He was keeping this pitcher until he found his soulmate.

Mihashi was his ticket for greatness, and the more they’d win, the better chances they had to invite and be invited to away games with other schools, which was Step Number One in Abe’s bullet list on How To Find My Soulmate (If They’re Still In School).

Though the plan still stood if his soulmate was a pro player. Becoming a great battery, a great team, would attract the attention of pro scouts, which would win Abe a position in a pro team, and from there, well, all the doors would be open to him.

.

.

.

Abe was about to shout when Mihashi said that it would be impossible for them to get to Koushien, but Hanai beat him to the punch.

“What the hell, at least you should turn it into a sort of goal!”

“Sort of goal?! I want to go to Koushien!” quipped in Tajima hotly.

“Impossible…” sniffled Mihashi again, prompting another shake from Hanai.

“You need to set a goal to become better, to surpass your limits,” said Momoe, finally walking towards them. I won’t have someone who says ‘it’s impossible, it’s impossible’ in this team. You need to change that attitude! And I won’t let you stand on the mound until you do!”

 _But not too much,_ thought Abe. He absolutely dreaded for Mihashi to become like Haruna, to even go near the personality that Haruna had. To find such a great pitcher, only to lose him to inflated pride and ego. He shivered in contempt. Fuck no. Not if he had any saying in it.

“You’re probably out of shape because of spring break, and you have exams for the next two weeks, right? For Golden Week  we’re going on a training camp, and for our first match, I’ll call Mihoshi High!”

Momoe said the name Mihoshi happily, almost evilly. Abe noticed Mihashi’s full-body wince, but he also wanted to measure his battery up against Mihoshi. He wanted to make sure what were the weak points of Mihashi’s pitches, what the guys at Mihoshi had to withstand in silence because of favoritism. He wanted to see whether the Mihoshi guys’ animosity towards the pitcher fell within reason or not.

Moreover, Abe wanted to work on whatever defects Mihashi’s pitching had as quickly as possible. Summer was around the corner.

Still, he felt bad for the crying pitcher. Trying to tune out his sobs, Abe thought that maybe he didn’t need to dread a change in personality any time soon. Maybe the guy’s personality as a scaredy-cat and a wimp was already set in stone, a permanent part of his identity.

“Hey, let’s create a Line group for the team?” quipped Sakaeguchi when Momoe bid them good day.

“ _Well said,_ ” thought Abe. He and Sakaeguchi had to change into casual clothes, but the other guys could walk straight home. Better get these things out of the way now before training tomorrow morning. Also, Abe wanted to check the other guys’ Internet profiles and get a feeling of their personalities.

“Okay, okay.”

“Nice idea.”

“Alright but let’s be quick, I need to go home and have a wank.”

“…”

“Did he just say that out loud?” whispered Sakaeguchi.

“I hope not.”

“Did he just say what I think he said?” whispered Oki at the same time.

“I think so.”

Ignoring Tajima’s inappropriate reminder, Abe got his trusty glove out of his pocket and covered his right hand before retrieving his cell phone from the bench. Beside his, there was another one, but it wasn’t Sakaeguchi’s since it didn’t look like the phone that had sat beside his for the previous two weeks, and Sakaeguchi had his out when he proposed the chat group.

“Momoe’s?” he mused out loud as he grabbed it.

When he turned around, he found Mihashi right in front of him.

“That’s…. mine…”

“Oh? Sorry, I thought it was the coach’s. I was ready to run after her.”

He handed it to the pitcher receiving a murmured thank you.

“Abe-kun…. Is very kind…”

“Mh? Not really.”

He thought himself pretty average in terms of selfishness and kindness.

Without pausing to think, he snapped a picture of the fair-haired boy, startling him.

“Eh? Eh?”

“Oh, sorry, sorry. It’s for your contact. You showed a funny expression there.”

“….Lame…”

“Not really, just funny.”

“A-Abe-kun’s picture…?”

“My picture what?”

“He wants to take a pic of you too!” quipped Tajima beside them, appearing seemingly out of thin air, startling them.

“Oh? Sure. Great timing for it, too. I’m in my gear, so you can’t confuse which contact is your catcher, too.”

The boy flushed profusely as he murmured ‘my catcher’ and took Abe’s picture, and Tajima shared all the other guy’s contacts which had been exchanged in a few seconds.

When he and Sakaeguchi emerged from the locker room, they found Mihashi and Tajima chatting amiably outside. Or, well, Mihashi attempted to form whole words, and Tajima magically interpreted them into full sentences.

A skill that Abe observed in wonder until they reached a crossroads.

Without Abe really noticing, they had taken their bikes and, in a silent agreement, walked part of the road together.

It had been a while since Abe had felt comfortable around his teammates. But of course, that would be the case, he thought. They were all first years, they all found many common principles, ideals, goals, and hurdles of life, past or prospective.

Apart from Abe’s envy at the way Tajima was able to read his future pitcher so smoothly so quickly, Abe felt pretty good about this team already.

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.

.

**Sakaeguchi named the group chat “Nishiura High Baseball Club”**

Sakaeguchi: Welcome, everybody!

Hanai: Hello!

Abe: That’s a tame title.

Tajima: Boring! Name it something like “Koushien or Death!”

Suyama: Are we a metal band now?

Hanai: Do NOT name the group “Koushien or Death.”

Izumi: We can come up with a livelier name later on anyway.

Mizutani: Agree.

Suyama: By the way, I don’t think I introduced myself properly to everybody yesterday. I’m Suyama Shouji, class 1-1. Nice to meet you.

Abe: Nice to meet you.

Tajima: Heya!

Hanai: Nice to meet ya.

Hanai: Hey, why don’t we all do another round of introductions though? I’m Hanai Azusa, call me Hanai, I’m in class 1-7 with Abe and Mizutani. Former clean-up hitter. I’m a decent throw, and I like the outer field the best.

Abe: Before anybody else goes on, Suyama was also clean-up hitter.

Tajima: What? Cool! Let’s compare stats!

Suyama: How about no.

Tajima: Aw, come on!

Suyama: Abe, how did you know?

Abe: I googled your names last night.

Sakaeguchi: Hahaha, lmao!

Abe: Not a joke.

Izumi: Wtf. Why?

Abe: I like being well-informed about my surroundings.

Suyama: Sound like you’re ready for battle. Kind of scary.

Oki: “Know thy enemy”

Abe: Not really. I wanted to know what strengths and weaknesses you have, so I can come up with the best strategies during a game.

Mizutani: That’s dedication. Respect.

Tajima: Someone’s fired up and ready to go. I like it!

Mihashi: Abe-kun is amazing.

Tajima: Mihashi!

Mihashi: Tajima!

Tajima: Awww. I hoped you’d be more comfortable texting. Perfect. We’re going to have so much fun!

Hanai: Class is about to start, stop texting or Momokan will have our heads.

Tajima. WTF MOMOKAN XD

Mizutani: I like it.

Abe: Scared of her now eh?

Hanai: I’m not!

Tajima: XD

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Tajima: ‘Sup, I’m Tajima Yuuichirou, blood type B, class 1-9. I play best in the in-field.  Clean-up hitter. Things I hate: Under-boiled broccoli, when my pen skips in a kanji, not seeing a variety of pitches during a game. Things I like: My family, baseball, wanking.

Izumi: Tajima we said no texting during class.

Tajima: Hanai said that and class is boring. Sensei’s still droning on about the syllabus. Just start the actual lecture dude.

Mizutani: And listing ‘baseball’ among things you like is like… duh. We haven’t joined a baseball club cause we hate the sport.

Oki: And you didn’t need to list the blood type and your likes and dislikes in the first place. What is it, are we supposed to write that in the matchmaking section of a girl’s magazine or something?

Tajima: Well, duh.

Oki: I cannot even.

Nishihiro: What.

Tajima: Things I like: My family, my pets, wanking.

Mizutani: You didn’t need to repeat that.

Suyama: Please do not repeat that again.

Sakaeguchi: Ditto.

Abe: Stop writing about wanking what if my younger brother sees this crap in my phone?!

Tajima: Don’t show it to your younger brother! Everybody at my home knows my phone is off limits, duh!

Izumi: Because of the porn I imagine.

Tajima: DUH.

Hanai: Okay, that’s enough!

Abe: He doesn’t have a phone and we watch videos and replays and stuff together sometimes.

Suyama: Awww :-)

Tajima: That’s so freaking sweet I can’t.

Abe: Shut up.

Sakaeguchi: Big brother Abe!

Hanai: That’s very sweet though.

Mihashi: Abe-kun is so kind!

Abe: BYE!

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Abe: Abe Takaya, class 1-7. Catcher for life. I like okonomiyaki, knowing my teammates and my opponents, and my soulmate. Nice to meet you all.

Tajima: Did you include your soulmate in the three things you like? This is so romantic I’m gonna die.

Izumi: As banal as mentioning baseball though.

Abe: I thought it’s particular enough to me to be okay.

Mizutani: I’m with Abe on this one. Also, you’re the romantic type huh?

Tajima: I like my soulmate too, he sounds like a badass! Well, most of the time. Sometimes he sounds like a jerk.

Izumi: You already know he’s a he?

Tajima: Yeah, pretty much. Sometimes he makes stupid comments about women, and they don’t seem like stuff a girl would say. I think.

Tajima: I’ll probably deck him in the face when I meet him before actually getting to know him. Punch the misogyny out of him ya know!

Oki: That’s pretty intense.

Suyama: Misogyny?

Tajima: My older sister said it means being a jerk to women in general. I didn’t even check the dictionary to see if she’s right since she goes to a good University. She’s crazy smart.

Suyama: College students are crazy, I don’t think I’ll be able to pass any entrance exam.

Tajima: Noooo let’s not go there yet, it’s the first day of freaking high school man!

Tajima: Anyway, I’m not 100% sure my soulmate’s a man, I didn’t get anything that precise yet, but I got that feeling.

Izumi: I know what you mean.

Tajima: Same for you?

Izumi: Don’t take offense, but I think it’s too early to talk about our soulmate. I don’t know you well.

Izumi: In the meantime, I’ll introduce myself. Izumi Kousuke, I’m in 1-9 with Tajima and Mihashi, O type, fielder. I like landscape photography magazines, psychology, and the mangaka known as CLAMP.

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Mihashi: Mihashi Ren, AB type, class 1-9. Pitcher. I like cats, pitching, and postcards. If I’m thrown out of the team, it’s been a pleasure to practice and play with you, and I wish you all the best of luck!

Tajima: It’s the first day of school! How can you think about being thrown out of the team? You’ve been accepted yesterday!

Mizutani: I’m confused too.

Abe: Why do you think you’ll be thrown out of the team already??

Mihashi: Coach said I need to change my attitude, else she won’t let me stand on the mound.

Tajima: Welp.

Sakaeguchi: Mihashi…

Mizutani: Well now…

Hanai: I don’t think it was that clear-cut as you make it sound.

Sakaeguchi: Exactly. I was about to type that.

Abe: It was like an encouragement for you to build up your confidence. We won’t go anywhere thinking everything is impossible. When you kept repeating ‘it’s impossible it’s impossible’ that was annoying. You can’t know it’s impossible. We haven’t even started training together yet!

Mihashi: I’m so sorry!

Tajima: What the hell Abe, have some heart!

Abe: Well that’s what I think. I want to practice and become a great catcher for a great team. I want to challenge many other schools and possibly meet my soulmate somewhere in-between.

Abe: Koushien sounds impossible considering us right now, but it is the freaking second day (second, Tajima) of school. We’re going to train. We’re going to challenge other schools. We’re going to win or lose and learn from our loss, then train some more, and win then.

Abe: Don’t focus too closely on Koushien, concentrate on training now, and on the next game.

Hanai: I couldn’t have put it better.

Suyama: I’d be clapping if I wasn’t in class.

Oki: Same.

Mizutani: That was kind of cool, Abe.

Tajima: That was the coolest! I’m aiming for Koushien but you’re right, one game at a time!

Hanai: You think he’s cool, but he was slamming his fingers on the screen so hard and with such an angry expression, I think he broke the screen and scared his neighbors half to death.

Sakaeguchi: Lmao Abe!

Abe: Whatever. Mihashi, read what I wrote carefully, and then read it again for good measure.

Abe: And I don’t think your personality can do a 180° so suddenly.

Izumi: True.

Sakaeguchi: I agree.

Tajima: Preach man.

Abe: And if the coach truly thinks what she said, she has weird expectations and I’ll try to talk to her. You’re a very good pitcher and I want you to become a great ace for our team. So calm down, focus on today, set a goal you’re comfortable with, and don’t think you need to become a completely different person overnight to stay in the team.

Hanai: Also maybe stop saying stuff like “it’s impossible” in front of Coach?

Tajima: Lmao XD

Izumi: True tho.

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.

Nishihiro: I also didn’t properly introduce myself yesterday. Name’s Nishihiro Shintarou, fielder, class 3. I like trains, team sweaters, and playing with my younger sister.

Tajima: Here’s another adorable one. Were you the guy watching from behind the fence with Suyama?

Suyama: Yep.

Mizutani: How old is your sister?

Nishihiro: 10.

Mizutani: Aww!

Tajima: That’s precious.

Nishihiro. It is.

Suyama: @Nishihiro, come over for recess, let’s each lunch together.

Sakaeguchi: My idea originally!

Nishihiro: Thanks, but I don’t want to leave Oki alone.

Suyama: ?

Nishihiro: Oki, he was also on the field yesterday. We’re classmates.

Suyama: Crap. Sorry. Didn’t know!

Oki: It’s fine! By the way. Oki Kazutoshi, A type, class 3. I played baseman in junior high. I like calligraphy, Shinto shrines, and my new mattress.

Tajima: I like my mattress so much, too. It’s old and soft and comfy. Heaven.

Mihashi: Sometimes I wish my mattress was older too. It’s a bit too hard…

Izumi: Is that why you got those horrible bags under your eyes?

Mihashi: I haven’t slept at all tonight. I was too nervous because of what coach said.

Abe: You need to forget about it! It’s not something that’s worth losing sleep over! Make sure you got plenty of sleep!!!

Suyama: I can smell Abe’s shouts from class 1.

Oki: Same.

Hanai: He’s slamming his fingers on the screen so hard guys.

Mizutani: True.

Abe: Shut up!!

Mihashi: Abe-kun is so kind!

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Mizutani: Yo, I’m Mizutani Fumiki, class 1-7. I think I’d like to be a fielder. My hair’s not dyed! I like hi-fi headphones, like the ones in music shops, and superhero animes. Nice to meet you all.

Mizutani: By the way, @Mihashi.

Mihashi: Yes?

Mizutani: Why you like postcards? Who even uses postcards anymore?

Mihashi: My ex-teammates would often talk about going on trips and stuff and sending each other postcards with jokes and greetings. I wish I’d receive a postcard too.

[...]

Izumi: Welp.

Sakaeguchi: I think I have some old postcards at home. Texting my dad to check if he remembers where they are exactly.

Tajima: Shit, I don’t think I have postcards at home.

Tajima: Brb buying some postcards.

Mizutani: Right behind you.

Hanai: Don’t go outside to buy postcards!

Tajima: Hey, screw you!

Izumi: It’s recess period and it looks like it’s going to rain.

Hanai: We can buy some on the way home.

Tajima: I knew I liked you for a reason.

Hanai: What.

Tajima: What.

Nishihiro: Lmao. I think my mom needed to buy something online, hope I’m not too late to ask her to modify her order.

Suyama: Are there postcards with cats on them?

Hanai: There’s everything with cats on it.

Abe: So true. Okay, perfect.

Izumi: Does the stationery store in town have postcards?

Hanai: You’re eating lunch right beside us, why can’t you ask me and Izumi directly?

Tajima: Ooh, you’re right, it does!

Oki: I’m pretty sure I got cardboard thick enough to be mailed at home.

Suyama: ?

Oki: DIY postcards.

Tajima: Shit u rite!

(They all ignored Mihashi’s protests that spending time and energy on postcards for him was not necessary).

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Tajima: @Mihashi who do I have to bang to convince you that you’re our Ace?

Abe: What happened?

Tajima: He’s sitting there brooding and muttering about being useless and a wimp and impossible and being thrown out of the team!

Sakaeguchi: Stop stressing about that. It’ll be alright.

Oki: You can do it!

Mizutani: We believe in you.

Suyama: Yesterday’s pitches looked good!

Tajima: He’s crying now.

Mizutani: Welp.

Abe: You’re our ace! Start acting like one!

Izumi: Too forceful, Abe.

Hanai: You shouldn’t pressure him about that.

Abe: Just stop crying for now. We’ll talk about you being the ace some other time.

Sakaeguchi: Meaning he’s going to wait by the bike rakes for you.

Oki: And yell at you.

Abe: I don’t yell!

Suyama: Yes you do.

Oki: You do.

Tajima: You absolutely do.

Hanai: You do yell Abe.

Abe: Well, not intentionally. My ex-teammates were all pretty loud, the senpais especially, it was impossible to talk to somebody else without shouting at practice. And if you think I yell you should hear my dad when he starts to get irritated. Or my brother when he’s excited. He reaches inhuman volumes.

Oki: Nevertheless, you were yelling pretty often yesterday, even in Mihashi’s face, who’s shy like me I think. If this how you’re normally fine, but please tone it down when we’re going to start training. I find it a bit intimidating.

Nishihiro: I’m behind Oki’s request. I get startled easily.

Izumi: I figured you were loud by nature, but I also think we should all try to help Mihashi build up some confidence about being the ace and support him as our ace, and that means try to remember that shouting at his face and scaring the crap out of him or out of other teammates wouldn’t get us far.

Tajima: I’m applauding so hard right now.

Hanai: Do not applaud in class! Also, I think I shouted pretty much all the time in junior high practice and at home during spats with my mom and my sisters, so I’ll pay attention to my volume too. You guys tell me if I start forgetting myself okay?

Abe: Me too, sorry, I’ll try not shout. Especially at you, Mihashi.

Mihashi: It’s absolutely fine!

Tajima: No it’s not. Tipping my hat to you both guys, you’re awesome. I’ll try not to shout too until our ace gets some self-confidence.

Mizutani: Second day of school, first day of this group chat, and we’ve already had some interesting revelations, apologies, and cheering. I like this team.

Tajima: Fuck yeah!

Tajima: Can we name it Koushien or Death! Now?

Hanai: No!

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.

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#  **To Tajima’s**

Abe crossed and uncrossed his arms in front of his chest as he waited by the bikes.

He sighed, and peeked under his glove.

_I want to pitch_

_I need to train_

_I can’t let them down_

_Somebody believes in me, I’m so glad_

_I absolutely cannot let them down_

_So hungry_

Abe squashed down a pang of jealousy at the thought that his soulmate was thinking fondly about someone, but at the same time he was incredibly glad that somebody was by his soulmate’s side now. It had been way too long since somebody did that.

There had been somebody a couple of years before, a friend or perhaps a teammate. His soulmate used to think along the lines of:

_He’s much better than me_

_He’s still kind to me_

_Such a good person_

However, the thoughts about this nice person were soon overpowered as the self-deprecating thoughts got heavier and more insistent. Finally, Abe had suspected that this nice person had, at a certain point, ditched his soulmate. The mere thought made Abe’s blood boil in rage.

Aided by the gentle breeze and the soft colors of spring all around him, Abe took several deep breaths, until he didn’t feel like exploding anymore.

Out of the blue, somebody cleared their throat behind him and he turned around to find… the whole team?

“Yo,” he said, unsure about what was going on.

“Yosh, let’s go!” exclaimed Tajima enthusiastically.

“To the stationery store?” asked Izumi with a smirk as Mihashi started to fumble with his uniform and stutter.

“I-I-I... Don’t need…”

“But won’t it ruin the surprise if you buy the postcards in front of Mihashi?” asked Sakaeguchi, earning an elbow from a still smirking Izumi.

“Damn, you’re right!” exclaimed Tajima.

“You can buy them before evening, or tomorrow morning,” quipped Suyama.

“Alright. Let’s go then!”

Tajima shot down the school’s front yard with his bike, the team trailing after him.

Mihashi shot Abe sheepish looks as he walked beside Oki with his bike, and Abe got thoroughly lost.

“Come on, let’s go,” said Hanai, and Abe tried to subtly blew a sigh of relief. He had assumed that they were going to leave him there.

“Where are we going?”

“To Tajima’s house.”

“What?”

Hanai shrugged.

“He said he wanted to introduce us to his family. Apparently he lives so close by that we can still get to the train station without bothering to check the clock every second. Most of us just wanted to check on you and Mihashi, then Tajima started talking about team bonding and having a snack at his place and here we are.”

“Check on me? Why?”

“Well, not exactly on you… How to say…”

Izumi halted his stride and turned around. He was apparently eavesdropping nonchalantly.

“They wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to go berserk on Mihashi.”

“Wha- But I did say-“

“I know,” shrugged Izumi. “They probably wanted to warn you one last time. I dunno.”

Around a corner behind the school, they arrived on top of the sloping road, where Tajima happily pointed out his house in the middle of the fields.

The ebb and flow of a group of walkers with different gaits means that a person doesn’t necessarily walk beside another person all the way to the destination. Thus, Abe soon found himself walking beside Sakaeguchi. He was acquainted better with the boy than the rest of the team, so he felt confident enough to ask:

“Did you also remain to protect Mihashi from me?” he tried to keep his dejected tone out of his voice, but he apparently failed spectacularly, since Sakaeguchi squeezed his arm for a moment, smiling reassuringly.

“Nah, don’t worry. I think half of us came along just to check out Tajima’s house. He has a big family apparently, and his older brothers, who are married and all, are his neighbors. Can you imagine that? They all live next to each other. It sounds like one of those extended families you see in old movies.”

“Is his place big enough for us all? Having ten guys over for who knows how long, that’s crazy. Did he even ask his parents first?”

“He says his backyard is pretty big, and he lives in a traditional house with a wide porch. Apart from going to the loo, I don’t think we’ll stay in the house itself. And he said his mom is used to having groups of guys over. His ex-teammates, you know? Though not ten at a time. I think he said his mom will call up her sisters-in-law and ask their help eventually.”

Thanking Sakaeguchi, Abe walked up ahead where Tajima was conducting a seemingly one-sided conversation with Mihashi, while Mizutani appeared like he was trying and failing to get the same meanings that Tajima could get out of Mihashi’s aborted sentences.

“Tajima.”

“Hey?”

“I don’t think it’s fair for your mother to host ten of us on such short notice. Thank you for the hospitality but I’ll make my way home, now.”

“A-Abe-kun… won’t… stay?”

More than Mihashi’s speaking out loud, Abe was startled when the boy grasped his forearm. Though he was released in the blink of an eye, he locked eyes with Mihashi and saw his shock, and couldn’t help by mirroring the sentiment. He had stopped walking altogether, in fact.

“It’s fine. Just, sorry I yelled so much yesterday, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mihashi grasped him again, looking nearly desperate.

“Mom…! Is coming… to help!”

“He called his mom to say he’d be late and she said she doesn’t have any more classes to teach so she’ll drive over and help,” explained Tajima, staring at Abe with a calculating expression. “I think somebody else’s mother said she’d come.”

“Mine,” quipped Oki. “She’s working from home for a project.”

“What does she do?”

“Designer stuff.”

A chorus of compliments arose, making Oki blush. Then Hanai raised his hand, blushing too.

“Sorry Tajima, when I called home my mom said she’d grab the girls real quick and come, too. I couldn’t stop her. She said she absolutely wants to meet the team. She’s a huge baseball fan, that woman.”

“Grab the girls, what the hell?”

“The twins, my younger sisters.”

The boys started to crowd Hanai to comment and ask about the twins. Twins were understood to be very rare in their country, and nobody had twins among their immediate acquaintances.

Abe heard his name called and turned around from the hilarious scene.

Tajima had called him, but Abe’s focus honed in on Mihashi’s hand, which was still loosely grasping his arm near his elbow.

Following his gaze, Mihashi also noticed. He startled and fumbled backward, almost falling on his butt in the middle of the sidewalk, if it weren’t for Mizutani’s timely assist.

Feeling himself flushing stupidly, Abe re-focused on the familiar sensation of his soulmate’s words appearing on his hand, calmed down a bit, and turned towards Tajima, who had watched the whole exchange closely. As did Izumi.

“See, Abe,” said Tajima, starting to walk again, “Don’t worry, we got it.”

Abe followed in step, thinking about how nice it was to be such a small club that one house could house them all together. That would have been absolutely impossible in Abe’s junior high baseball club.

Due to his stepping up to the head of the group, Abe found himself walking beside Mihashi.

 _“Now or never,”_ he thought.

“Mihashi.” His call startled the pitcher, but Abe started to assumed that the reaction was probably ingrained into the boy’s personality, and tried to wave away his irritation.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you yesterday.”

“N-N-No need… To apologize!”

“I do need though.”

“Do-Do-Do-Don’t worry!”

Abe bit back his frustration and blew air out of his nose.

And count to ten, too, just to be sure.

“Mihashi,” called Mizutani beside him. “If you want to accept Abe’s apology just say so. Same if you don’t want to accept his apology.”

Mihashi turned to Abe so quickly Abe was sure he heard the whiplash.

“I… accept… your apology!”

Abe blew out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding in.

Immediately, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulder, and he nodded to himself, straightening his back and looking forward.

Just in time for Tajima to exclaim.

“Here we are, this is me!”

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.

.

#  **At Tajima’s**

“Whoa!”

“Huge!”

“Already?”

“So close, lucky you!”

“Hey guys, look, you can see the school from here!”

Abe turned around in disbelief, as did most of the team. Sure enough, the outline of the school building’s highest floor was visible in the hazy afternoon.

“It’s so humid here.”

“And so spacious!”

“Perks of being farmers!” exclaimed Tajima happily, standing by the gates as they entered a front yard. It looked it was shared by not one but three houses.

One house was visibly bigger and older than the others. The sloping roof had been darkened by the decades, the building appeared to be of an L shape, and it was made mostly of wood. It really had a portico all around the house, like Abe had seen in the movies set in the Tokugawa period, or in the short documentaries of the NHK, the national public broadcast station on TV, portraying countryside life.

The latter applied here, Abe mused. This _was_ the countryside.

The front yard had spots of green grass, glistening with the remaining drops of the most recent rain. The soil around the area of the gates was muddy and uneven, the tracks of tires clearly visible.

Beside the main house there were three cars, and another two were parked beside the secondary houses, which were squared-off and modern-looking in comparison with the main house. And yet, they had clearly been constructed to imitate the traditional architecture style.

All the cars but one were caked with mud and soot from the puddly entry way. Abe mused that the family cars were never clean for long stretches of time.

Next, Abe noticed the calls of the animals. Cows and chickens, and two dogs shot out from behind one of the secondary houses. Up on the roof, a cat started to yowl. A gush of air brought the smell of manure to Abe’s nostrils, making him wince for a moment.

As they all fussed around the dogs and complimented Tajima’s house repeatedly, a man and a woman came out of the double doors at the entrance of the house.

“Yuu?”

“Mom, grandpa! These are my new teammates!”

Abe instinctively tensed and straightened up under the scrutiny of the two adults. In the blink of an eye, all his teammates fell into a more or less straight line.

“Hello, Tajima-san! Sorry to disturb!” shouted Hanai, bowing.

It was like a fuse had been lit up, as everybody else shouted their own greeting and bowed.

“My, you already look like a fine team. Please, come- Who’s this?”

They all turned towards the gate as a car rolled in. Once parked, a slender woman with short light hair hopped out. The appearance, not to mention the fair hair, was unmistakable.

“Mihashi-san?” Abe didn’t notice he had called out loud until Mihashi’s mother focused on him, smiling broadly.

“Yes, hello, Mihashi Naoe, my son’s the pitcher I think. Nice to meet you!”

Everybody exclaimed their greeting, bowing again.

“This… is… Abe-kun!”

“Eh?!” Mihashi-san’s full body startle looked like a mild version of Mihashi’s. It was so amusing to watch.

But it was Abe’s turn to be startled next, when Mihashi-san got in front of him and bowed.

“Thank you so much Abe-kun!” before Abe gathered his wits about him, Mihashi-san continued. “My Ren had been all ‘I’m going there just to look, I’m not going to pitch, I’m no good anyway’ and then yesterday I come home and he’s all ‘Coach said she’ll throw me out of the team if I don’t change but Abe-kun was so amazing, he said I can become a true ace, he said I have skills, that my pitching is valuable, that he’ll be my catcher and I don’t need to worry about anything.’

And he went on and on about stuff I don’t really understand, you know, I don’t know my baseball, but Ren said that your signs had power and that you’re such a great catcher. And he was all crying, but crying in happiness you know. I haven’t seen him so excited about pitching since back in elementary school when sometimes he would come up with sentences like ‘I’m going to join the NPB!’-”

Abe perked up immediately and turned as Mihashi was trying to usher his mom in vain.

“You want to become a pro?”

Mihashi looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up right then and there, but he managed to mumble, “Child’s…. dream…”

“Not necessarily. You have the skills for it. If we get to Koushien and a scout sees you, they’ll have to be blind not to invite you.”

“What do you mean ‘if’?!” exclaimed Tajima, indignated, but Abe ignored him since Mihashi-san was smiling so big at him, and her eyes became wet too.

“I’m so glad somebody believes in Ren. He trains hard every day. If you think he has a chance, he’ll be much heartened by this resolution!”

Mihashi-san’s words were on a different level than Abe’s mother, but he thought the gist was that Mihashi was very happy that Abe believed in him.

Mihashi was short of tugging his mother away from him, and Abe was about to shout that Mihashi really had great potential, when another car came in and a woman and two nearly identical girls stepped out. Clearly the Hanais.

“Hello, I’m Hanai Kikue, these are Haruka and Asu- Oh, hi Azusa!”

“Don’t call me that!”

Hanai’s extremely loud and angry tone made everybody jump in shock.

“Why?” asked Tajima, stepping up towards Hanai.

Hanai murmured something so low that Abe didn’t even hope to hear what he was saying. Fortunately, and unfortunately for Hanai, who was already bright red in the face, Tajima relayed everything to his mother and grandfather.

“Mom, grandpa, don’t call Hanai by his name, he says he hates it!”

“Poor Hanai-san,” murmured Mihashi-san beside.

“No way, it’s too confusing. There are so many Hanais already. Hanai-san!”

Hanai-san got startled by grandfather’s loud voice but responded.

“Azusa, Haruka, and…?”

“Asuka!”

“Like the trains?” quipped Oki.

“Eh?” asked Mizutani, confounded.

“There’s a limited express named Azusa, a train named Haruka and a retired express named Asuka.”

“Really?”

“You really like trains, huh, Oki?”

“Well, I don’t dislike them…”

“A train?” asked Mihashi-san to Hanai-san, who was now beside her, looking rather sheepish. “Isn’t it a tree?”

“Why, yes! I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name…”

“Mihashi Naoe, nice to meet you!”

“The pitcher! Azusa told me they have an interesting pitcher!”

Hanai screamed not to call him that, while Mihashi and Mihashi-san flushed. They even flushed the same, Abe noticed.

“But as you said Mihashi-san, yes, it’s the catalpa tree. You know, the one with big, smooth, heart-shaped leafs, wide foliage and tiny flowers with tiny purple flecks?”

“I think I know the one, yes. What a nice tree. Did you hope for your son to grow strong like the catalpa?”

“Yep! But he hates his name so much as you can see… I’m troubled.”

“Azusa!” Abe, along with everybody present, turned towards Tajima’s grandfather. “You have a fine name, derived from a fine, magnificent tree. Grow strong like your namesake and be thankful for your mother’s good wishes for your health and your future when she gave you your name!”

“But! It’s a girl’s name!”

“What do you mean it’s a girl’s name? I am Itou Shungo and my daughter, Itou Miwako, gave up a leisure life in the city to marry Tajima Takeshi, a countryside man surrounded by a land that needs to be harvested regularly and can’t be turned to built upon. She had five children, the last one at 42 years old, and they’re healthy and strong, and she even takes care of me, my mother, and her husband’s mother and grandfather! Wait, Yuu, is he the guy who wanted to quit the team because your coach’s a woman?”

Hanai, who had become white as a sheet as Tajima-san’s father had began his speech, now visibly shuddered.

“What?” shrieked Hanai-san as Tajima confirmed his grandpa’s info.

“You won’t get far in life if you keep underestimating women like that!”

“Azusa, we’ll have words later!”

“What is all this commotion?”

“Wah, so many people, hello!”

Three women stepped out of the double door of the main house. Two clearly took from Tajima-san, while one had Oki’s nose. Or, well, Oki had hers, obviously.

“Everybody, these are my older sisters, Kanoko and Yuzuka.”

The two women greeted them happily, and the team and the newcomers greeted them back and bowed.

“I am Oki Kumiko. Kazu’s mom. Nice to meet you all!”

Greetings and bows were repeated all around.

“Why are you keeping them in the front yard, grandpa, mom?”

“That’s right, come in, come in. Yuu, lead your friends in front of Kisaku and Sei’s rooms. Mihashi-san, Hanai-san, Haruka, Asuka please come in this way.”

Everybody moved at once. Abe and the others didn’t set foot in the house, but were herded by Tajima and his grandfather to the side of the house, where it bent to a 90° corner.

In the porch, two very old-looking people were sitting comfortably and had began to chat to another individual slighter ‘younger’ than them. However, they all paused and turned to greet their guests.

“These are Yuu’s high school teammates?”

“Are they going to train here?” asked the very old woman.

“No, mom, they’re to introduce themselves. Come on, boys!”

“Tajima Yuuichiro!” exclaimed Tajima, making everyone laugh, and just like the tension slithering in the team after Hanai’s outburst dissipated and everybody introduced themselves with more or less loud shouts for the benefits of the elderly. Mihashi had to try to shout his name four times before Abe took pity on him and shouted it for him.

Then, Tajima led them to the portico at the end of the corner of the house. The great-grandparents and the grandparents seemed content to remain where they were.

Everybody shuffled in front of portico as they took of their shoes and kneeled or sat in the portico. It was a nice, windy day, and from their position Abe couldn’t smell the animals, and could barely hear them. The smell of soil was strong, and Abe bit back the question of what Tajima’s family cultivated.

While the others kept commenting on Tajima’s family and house, Hanai sat quietly, subdued.

Abe peeked under his glove, feeling restless after not reading his soulmate’s words for so long. Even though it had been less than half an hour, it was a long time for him, who had the luxury to have his soulmate’s words on a very easily accessible place.

But the words were intermittently the same, now familiar, thought.

I want to pitch

“Abe-kun… looks…. Happy…”

“Mh?”

“You’re… smiling…”

“Am I?” he mused, noticing the stretch of his lips. “My soulmate’s a dork. He thinks about nothing but pitching. I really like his dedication.”

“Your…. Soulmate… a pitcher?”

“Yep, no doubt about that. He sounds like a great pitcher, I can’t wait to meet him. He played so many games I think he’s in Uni or maybe even a pro by now.”

“A pro…”

“Who’s a pro?” asked Izumi, sitting at the other of Abe, leaning in.

“Abe-kun’s soulmate… pitcher… amazing….”

“He’s a pro? Congratulations man. So you want to become a pro, too?”

Abe shrugged, not entirely comfortable with the topic and wanting to divert Izumi’s focus from him before the others honed in on the subject matter.

“A reserve probably. But not for long. When I become his catcher, he won’t need to worry about anything.”

“Damn, stop sounding cool.”

Abe was about to ask him ‘what about your soulmate?’ or something of the sort, but that would have kept the topic on the road, and he would felt bad afterwards. He had raised the topic in the first place with Mihashi, and Mihashi didn’t know that Abe didn’t like the attention, not about his soulmate.

“I want to pitch, too.”

Mihashi’s remark was said in a drawn-out sigh containing so much longing that Mihashi sounded like pitching was like an oasis in a desert, or a medicine after long days of sickness.

Abe couldn’t help it, and the laughter burst out of him before he realized it. His outburst had the effect he was trying to avoid until a second before, gathering the attention of his surrounding teammates, while Mihashi flushed and fumbled haplessly.

“Speaking of pitching, Mihashi,” said Sakaeguchi, turning around, “Yesterday your control was pretty good. I’m impressed. You had a steady hand.”

“Was it good?” asked Nishihiro with a low voice, but not low enough to hide the fact that he was a beginner.

“Not sure,” answered someone, but Abe was already on his feet.

“Tajima, can I borrow a couple of gloves and one ball?”

“Sure, why?”

“I’m going to show you that Mihashi’s control on his pitching isn’t good, it’s perfect.”

.

.

.

#  **Pitching control**

As Tajima disappeared in the house, Abe had a hard time trying to calm down Mihashi while staving off his teammates remarks.

“It is. No, I’m not exaggerating. Mihashi, come on, put on your shoes already. Best I’ve seen, better than most pros I’ve seen on TV. Come on, Mihashi, I trust you not to hurt me.”

That seemed to do the trick, as Mihashi remained motionless for a few seconds before slipping his shoes on.

In that moment, the mothers, sisters, and twins walked up to the grandparents carrying tea cups and snacks.

“Oh? What are they going to do?”

“Takaya?”

Abe jumped in surprise at being called by his first name by a stranger, but he dutifully replied to Tajima’s grandfather.

“I want to show the others how good Mihashi’s pitching is.”

“Oh my!”

“This is great!”

“I’m glad I got off home early, Ren, do your best!”

“Can I take a picture, Naoe?”

“Oh dear, I forgot my phone in the kitchen, please take a picture for me too, Hanai-san!”

“Nii-chan, are you batting?”

“Not now.”

The adults reasonably put up a hell of a fight when Tajima slipped Abe the glove and ball, but Abe quickly stepped away from Mihashi and crouched, and as Tajima’s grandfather was about to slip on his shoes and shout about protecting gear, danger, and youth’s recklessness, Abe called “Ball!” making Mihashi tense.

“Upper right corner, curve!” Abe called.

“Lower left corner, slider!” He called for the next pitch.

“Left center, fastball!”

“Are you kidding me?” said one of their teammates, sounding duly impressed.

“Ren is awesome!”

“Eh? Eh?”

“Upper left corner, shuuto!”

“Loot at Abe’s glove, holy crap!”

“Yuu, language!” scolded a motherly voice.

“Right center, fastball!”

“What is this sorcery?” murmured a woman from the porch.

“Lower right corner, shuuto!”

“Upper center, curve!”

“This is crazy.”

“I’m not letting go of Mihashi ever.” swore somebody from the team, but Abe was too focused to on the task at hand to focus on them.

“And coach wants to throw him out? She’ll have to pass through me first.”

“Lower center, slider!”

“Same here.”

“Right behind you.”

.

.

.

Tajima’s grandfather, Hanai-san and the twins, were absolutely on fire after the battery’s show. While the others snacked, the mothers were already at Koushien.

“We need to stitch perfect uniforms! They’re going to be on television!”

“I don’t know how to stitch, I have no idea how, truly!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll stitch together, I can show you and correct you. When are you free this week?”

“They can go to nationals, incredible.”

“A team of all first years, they’ll make history!”

“Maybe they’ll win nationals, too. Oh dear, I don’t want to think about that, I’m shaking already!”

“Me too! And I don’t even understand all that’s going on and I’m not even the one who’ll play!”

.

.

.

While the boys’ heads were full of the comments on Mihashi’s pitching and on which pro would have been able to hit what, the mothers had already gotten along like a house on fire.

Unless a woman had married into her own hometown, she had little choice on which house she’d live in as a married woman, as the woman was supposed to follow the husband’s workplace, since his position was usually the better-paying one. The last requirement was the one used by homosexual couples to choose the house.

Therefore, most of the team’s mothers had few to no friendships outside of the workplace. For the women who had chosen to become housewives, the lack of a fulfilling social life outside of their family weighted heavily on their every day life, embittering their stress and their worries, which they couldn’t share with akin souls.

Led by the idea that Mihashi’s incredible skills and Abe’s poised and reassuring game-calling would have brought the team together, leading them to Koushien or at least as near to Koushien as possible, the mothers over at Tajima’s devised a plan. It began with taking home as many students as they could, and when Tajima-san’s elder daughters had been made privy to the project, they made the plan a reality with their help.

Hanai-san took home Suyama, Oki-san took Abe, Mizutani, and Suyama, while Mihashi-san took Izumi, Sakaeguchi, and Nishihiro, leaving her son in Tajima’s care, since he said he didn’t mind walking Mihashi home.

.

.

.

**Kikue named the group chat “Nishiura High – Mothers Team”**

Kikue: Hello everyone! Let me introduce myself, I’m Hanai Kikue, Azusa’s mother. I’m a housewife, and huge baseball fan. I’m subscribed to a couple of magazines with my partner and soulmate, I have two twin girls in elementary school.

Naoe: Aww, dears.

Misae: They must be so cute!

Kikue: They are! My son used to be clean-up hitter in junior high. You probably have heard of him already. He’s the rascal who said he’d quit the baseball club for the only reason that he saw that the coach was a woman. But don’t worry, I’ve handled it already.

Keiko: My son said the coach is scary!

Kumiko: Mine too!

Kazumi: Same here.

Keiko: She’ll have them all wrapped up around her little finger in to time.

Naoe: Hello, I’m Mihashi Naoe, Ren’s mother. I’m a University Professor. My husband is also my soulmate. I love him very much. I love my only son very much, too. Ren is very shy and not self-confident, but he works so hard. Both my husband and I don’t understand much about baseball, but as long as it makes Ren happy, I’ll fully support him.

Kumiko: Very well said, Mihashi-san!

Misae: Your son is the one my son raved about so much yesterday! Taka was all ‘I found a great pitcher!’

Misae: He also said Ren-kun was a bit difficult to handle, but Taka is nothing but adaptable, and it was just their first day, I’m sure they’ll form a spectacular battery together, the battery’s harmony is very important for the team.

Naoe: ….

Naoe: Abe-san right?

Misae: Yes. Abe Misae. I’m a music teacher at a private school. My husband is not my soulmate but he’s a good man, though he appears gruff at first. If you see him or better hear him during a match, please don’t mind his loud voice. He’s not conscious of it most of the time. My sons too. If your sons come home with a headache because of Taka, please tell me so, I’ll scold him properly. Taka and Shun are good boys, both in love with baseball, both want to be pro catcher to find their soulmates.

Naoe: That’s so sweet! I wish Ren would have the confidence to tell me if his dream is to become a pro, he trains so hard.

Miwako: He’ll become a pro for sure, Mihashi-san. Many in my family said so, especially after I showed them the video of his pitching.

Misae: You have a video of his pitching? Taka was raving about his pitching so much. Mihashi-san, would you mind sharing it?

Naoe: Oh my, I’m a bit embarrassed even though I’m not the one in the video!

Misae: You don’t have to, sorry it was a sudden request!

Naoe: Not at all, it’s just uploading so slowly!

Naoe: Here you go: Ren_Pitching_180413.mkw

Keiko: That is perfection.

Naoe: Oh my.

Misae: My husband will flip when he sees this. And look at Taka, he’s glowing in excitement, I’m so glad he found such a good pitcher.

Kikue: A work of art, right?

Keiko: By the way, I’m Izumi Keiko, women’s magazine editor. I have a platonic relationship with my soulmate. I have two sons. No daughters. But not for lack of trying. Anyway, my son is Izumi Kousuke. He’s quiet and observant and with a sassy streak a mile long, wonder where he got that from!

Eiko: XD

Eiko: Hello! I’m Suyama Eiko, literary critic. My partner is also my soulmate. Between her and me we’ve had two in vitrio sons, Shouji and Shinji. I’m not a baseball fan, I like the sport enough, but I don’t understand everything. Maybe I’m too much of a bookworm? I’ll count on you to understand baseball more!

Kumiko: You’ll have to teach me too. Oki Kumiko, single mother, illustrator and calligrapher. I have a daughter and a son, Kazutoshi. Also, I’m not good with technology. How do I watch the video Tajima-san shared?

Misae: If you tap the video’s name a message should pop open on your screen, asking you if you want to download it. You tap that option.

Naoe: Sometimes the download function is indicated by an arrow that points down. Or is indicated as saving. For ex: Do you want to save this video?

Keiko: If your antivirus blocks it, open your antivirus and pauses it until you’ve downloaded the video.

Kumiko: Thank you but I tapped the video and a window opens with a list of information, such as how long it lasts and so on. It’s the video that is shared with me in this way, so sorry. I’ll ask my son later.

Kazumi: Try to hold your tap. Keep your finger on the screen for a few seconds.

Kumiko: Oh, it worked! Thank you everyone!

Kazumi: Hello, I’m Nishihiro Kazumi, one of the coders for a certain photo editing software. My husband is also my soulmate. I live with his wonderful parents, two delightful men, one is Ukranian, he has such nice skin even in his age, I’m envious! I have a son, Shintarou, and a lovely little girl, Fuyumi. Shintarou gave us inspiration for her name.

Kiyoe: That is so sweet!

Kiyoe: Hello everyone, I’m Mizutani Kiyoe, I used to compete in synchronized swimming, but then aging happened. I’m a swimming competitions commenter now. One of many, so thankfully I have time for my hobbies. My youth was simply training and training, it’s weird to have free time! My partner is not my soulmate, but I love her dearly. I had a daughter in Uni and a son, Fumiki.

.

.

.

Kikue: Maybe Mihashi-san wrote down the wrong number for Sakaeguchi-san?

Misae: Could be…

[…]

Naoe: Sorry I was at work! I also forgot to text you earlier, Hanai-san. Sakaeguchi-san is a single father. From what I understood, he divorced from Sakaeguchi-kun’s mother when she went to Greece to find her soulmate and he’s now living with his own soulmate, a younger man. Or perhaps his soulmate visits him often? I’m not sure now. He said “Thank goodness there’s Takeda-san with me now, I was a disaster before he accepted me.”

Kikue: The poor man, it must have been tough for him. But I don’t really see how that’s relevant now.

Naoe: Well… How to say…

Misae: You named the chat “mother team.” He probably thinks we only invited him for appearance’s sake but we do actually want him to participate. He must have silenced the chat.

Kikue: I’m such an idiot.

Naoe: No, it’s my fault. I should have warned you immediately, but I forgot. I’m so out of it these days. I didn’t even tell him he would be welcomed in the chat since I didn’t know you all. Now for all I know a perfectly good man feels rejected and discriminated. It would be too forward of me to call him, maybe I can ask Ren to send a message to him through his son.

Misae: Ren is not the only one in the family who’s very shy and lacks self-confidence, huh?

Naoe: ?

Keiko: Never mind. We need to come up with a plan to convince Sakaeguchi-san to participate. Unless somebody is actually against it?

Eiko: I’m not.

Kumiko: Me neither.

Kazumi: All right for me too.

Eiko: I hope there won’t be someone here to discriminate him because he’s a gay man. I know we women have more of a leeway in same-sex relationships because we don’t carry on our family name, but in case him being a gay man is a problem then we have a problem.

…

Misae: I’m about to send him this picture: 170623-TokyoPride-00122.jpg

Misae: Think this is the right message?

Naoe: Oh my goodness, we went too!

Naoe: Pride17_087.png

Eiko: 20170623_0001.jpg

Kiyoe: YAY!

Kiyoe: Pride2017-059.jpg

Eiko: Tokyo Pride Team!

Kumiko: I sent him this

Kumiko: 20180413_001.png

Kikue: Calligraphy looks so elegant.

Kazumi: A hand-written invitation, wow. And it’s so detailed!

Misae: And done in such a short amount of time. I’m applauding.

Mamoru: TokyoPride2017-043.png

Mamoru: 170623-001.png

Naoe: Sakaeguchi-san welcome!

Mamoru: Tokyo Pride Team. And also, thank you for the lovely invitation, Oki-san. I’m sorry I can reciprocate only with my chicken scratch.

Kumiko: A fine writing style Sakaeguchi-san. If I may throw a wild guess, your neat and tight spacing would lead me to think that you use your hand-writing regularly.

Mamoru: Wow. Yes, correct.

**Kikue changed the group chat name into Nishiura Support Team**

Kikue: I’m so sorry about this misunderstanding Sakaeguchi-san.

Mamoru: No need, I already received everybody’s apologies and invitations, you were all so kind. It was just a silly misunderstanding. If you’ll have me, I’m glad to participate in this group chat.

Misae: Please do! We’ve introduced ourselves. I’ll send you the screenshots.

Mamoru: Thank you. Now, then. I’m Sakaeguchi Mamoru, I’m a therapist. I publish short stories in collections. Nothing major, just silly fantasy stuff. I’m a single father, my ex-wife is looking for her soulmate. Mine is my editor, who’s very kind to me and puts up with me daily and helps me with my children more often than I deserve. I have a daughter in Uni, I try and fail not to miss her. I have Yuuto and Yukihiro with me here. They both want to become the best basemen in NPB! It’s wonderful to see them arguing about tactics and stuff. I fancy myself a baseball fan, but sometimes they lose me in their arguments. I still have work to do as a baseball player’s father!

Eiko: Me too!

Kumiko: Sign me up for supplementary lessons!

Naoe: Please put up with my ignorance in this regard!

Misae: This chat is lovely, I’ll protect it with my life.

Kiyoe: Right behind you.

.

.

.

Day 3 of high school.

Sakaeguchi changed the chat name into “Mihashi’s Pitching Fan Club”

Abe: Amen.

Izumi: That was perfection.

Hanai: That was a work of art.

Sakaeguchi: Ditto.

Hanai: I’m quoting my mom word for word by the way.

Mizutani: Lmao.

Mizutani: When I explained some stuff to her, my mom also said it was amazing.

Abe: @Mihashi You’ve got my all family this close from making fan club banners and scarves.

Mihashi: @Mizutani @Abe Eh?

Izumi: @Mihashi Your mother shared the video of your pitching with their mothers. She did the same with mine.

Mihashi: Oh my god mom.

Izumi: Mom bid me good night by saying ‘Make sure to become a good fielder and support Mihashi properly. I’ll reserve my paid leave for the Koushien days.’

Abe: My dad gave me an hour-long lecture about being a good battery and bonding with the pitcher and communication and stuff. Shun’s excited about boasting about me in school ‘My big brother’s going to Koushien ya know.’ Little rascal. My mom threatened to take away my mitt if I don’t rein in my temper. Because now I have a temper. She never said anything about either of us and now I’m the one in the family who has a temper.

Tajima: Shut up, you didn’t have your whole family reminding you that going to Koushien is not an excuse to slack on your studies.

Hanai: About studying. Did anybody tell the coach that entrance exams don’t last till GW?

Suyama: I was thinking about that too. She was told incorrectly maybe?

Abe: Maybe they changed things recently and she goes by her memories.

Sakaeguchi: Let’s train by ourselves before GW!

Hanai: We can’t. If we’re hurt on the school grounds because of baseball, Shigapo will be held responsible.

Sakaeguchi: Welp.

Tajima: My legs feel heavy as fuck. I want to train!

Mihashi: Mine too.

Abe: Same.

Sakaeguchi: Preach.

Hanai: Yeah, that sucks.

Mizutani: I’m lost.

Abe: When you work out regularly, if you break your pace, the muscles you trained feel heavy.

Sakaeguchi: And ache.

Tajima: Not even wanking helps.

Abe: It’s not a universal remedy.

Tajima: Until last week I would have said “says you.”

Abe: …

Sakaeguchi: Let’s have a light sort of training. Like running and working out.

Mihashi: Running to school in the morning!

Abe: You’d spend first period asleep. Do NOT run to school in the morning Mihashi!

Tajima: We can run around my family’s fields in the afternoon.

Izumi: Brilliant.

Abe: @Tajima Can you ask home if we can have a corner, somewhere on your land, doesn’t have to be near any house, where we can form a mound?

Mihashi: I have a mound at mine!

Abe: @Tajima Never mind that.

Izumi: Can somebody stay at Tajima’s a bit longer with me to run the basic training program for something like an hour? I confess I don’t do well if I’m alone.

Hanai: If Tajima doesn’t mind, I’ll stay.

Sakaeguchi: Count me in.

Suyama: I’d stay too but wouldn’t we trouble Tajima’s family?

Nishihiro: ^

Oki: ^

Tajima: Texted my mom, she says she’ll give me a complete answer in a few hours so hang tight. I’d be all right for everything, so long as I start revising by like 6pm, ‘cause I’m not the smart type.

Sakaeguchi: Absolutely. When you want.

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.

.

Tajima: Ok so mom wrote to the Support Team group chat.

Mizutani: Whut. Lmao.

Tajima: It’s the mothers and Sakaeguchi-san’s group chat, as she just told me.

Mizutani: Okay, not so lmao.

Izumi: We’re screwed.

Hanai: They’ll start quarreling about center-pieces in a week, don’t sweat it.

Tajima: They’ll have us over on alternate days. At Mihashi’s on Mondays, and Thursdays. At Abe’s and at Sakaeguchi on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. At mine on Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays. If something comes up we’re to get directly to the sports center and wait for Hanai’s mom and sisters, and Oki’s mother to get there to supervise us.

Suyama: Sometimes I forget I’m a minor. This time is not one of those times.

Nishihiro: How can we be in two houses on the same days?

Tajima: We divide into two groups. They don’t care about who’s in which as long as the battery trains together and we are half and half as much as possible.

Oki: I bet my mom helped organize this alternative stuff, she’s a very meticulous person.

Tajima: Oh, and we’re to mix the people in the groups every day.

Mizutani: Whut. Why. That’s troublesome.

Tajima: Collaboration is key in a team, and you don’t even have senpais who can bring you together.

Tajima: You need to start getting to know each other and become a real team so we can all record your victories and boast about you to all the relatives and friends.

Tajima: Next destination for all of you: Koushien! For some of you: NPB!

Tajima: Copy-pasted from the messages my mom copy-pasted from the Support Team group chat.

Abe: Who wrote them originally.

Abe: You know what, I know my mom wrote the NPB one.

…

Mizutani: The tension is killing me.

Tajima: Correct!

Abe: No-brainer.

Nishihiro: Did my mom wrote the second message?

…

Tajima: Nope.

…

Tajima: Nobody else wants to guess the second one?

Sakaeguchi: We don’t want to guess the second one. Who wrote the first?

Suyama: Your dad wrote the second one didn’t he?

Sakaeguchi: No comment.

Tajima: Correct!!

Suyama: @Sakaeguchi You’re bright red this is awesome. I’m sending this to my mom so she can send it to your dad.

Sakaeguchi: Don’t send that picture Suyama!!

Hanai: No need to guess who wrote first either!

Izumi: Because yours did.

Hanai: @Tajima Don’t you dare!

Tajima: Correct!

Izumi: By the way, @Tajima your family doesn’t believe in honorifics?

Tajima: Yes, but only for adult and only if they meet one member of a couple. Say there were both Mihashi-san at mine yesterday, they would have been called by their first names immediately. We’re farmers with a history of big numbers. My aunts and uncles live all nearby, we have lots of family friends. And since we have the space, sometimes we throw family reunion parties and calling people by their family names is just moronic.

Mizutani: Amazing.

Tajima: Actually you call me by my first name if you want. We’re all first years, we don’t have senpais to be aware of.

…

Tajima: Oi.

….

Tajima: Guys.

…

Tajima: Too early?

Hanai: Yes.

Izumi: A bit, yeah.

.

.

.

#  **At Mihashi’s**

The day Abe, Izumi, Suyama, and Oki went over to Mihashi’s for training, Abe saw Mihashi’s training ground, proudly exhibited, as proudly as a shaking, mumbling mess could be, and almost popped a vein in his forehead.

To stop himself from clutching Mihashi’s shoulder and shaking the life out of him, he reached out and grasped Mihashi’s left hand instead.

“What the FUCK is this?” One shouted word out of five. Progress.

“M-M-M-My training g-g-g-g-ground.”

“I’m talking about THIS!” he said, letting go of Mihashi and stepping closer to the dummy zone, pointing at the worn out canvas.

“And this!” he pointed at another worn out spot.

“And this!” he pointed at another.

“You said you came to live here for high school a month ago, and you were so glad to have a new canvas. How the f… hell did you wear out such a thick canvas, a brand new one, and this is of good quality! It’s been worn out in such a short time, and we need to count the exams too!”

“Abe, calm down,” said Izumi morosely, staring at the canvas with a dark expression.

“Calm down?! I’ll calm down if this… this guy tells me he trained so much only because we’re on break. You didn’t train like this when you had training right?”

“They… hated me… Useless…”

“Please tell me you didn’t train after losing a match.”

“…B-But! ….Useless!”

“Shit.” Abe heard Izumi murmuring but he was too out of it to care.

“For the love of every deity up there, tell me you pitch less than 100 pitches a day.”

“I… don’t… count…”

“For how long do you pitch continuously in one session?” asked Abe, reigning his tone since Mihashi looked down the right path for some tachycardia now.

“One… hour…”

“One… Okay so say you retrieve the ball in, what, 15-20 seconds?” He waited for Mihashi to nod frantically.

“That’s more than 200 pitches in one single session! You…!” Abe stomped on his rage and almost stomped in reality.

“I don’t want to know how many hours you pitch in a day. But do you even understand why I’m angry right now? You didn’t even have a pitching coach! It’s stupid, dangerous, it’s beyond recklessness!

Do you have any idea about the injuries you can mature? Inflammations, micro-fractures! Don’t you listen to the commentators of the pro games? People who have inflammatory problems can skip more than half a season! And they’re the ones who can still play after the high school tournaments! And don’t you read the magazines? Haven’t you ever read about the cartilage wearing off with misuse and then it’s bone against bone! Bone against BONE! How long do you think you can last like THAT?!”

“Abe, calm down, back off,” intimated Suyama.

“I agree you need to tone it down, Abe,” quipped Izumi, still staring at the canvas, “But I agree with you on everything else. This is dangerous Mihashi. A dear friend of mine, you know, his shoulder and elbow hit their limit when he was in junior high. He can’t throw a ball anymore. It hurts too much. The doctor told him he risked losing a few basic movements altogether. Like, you know, raising your hands and touch the back of your head? That’s one movement he was risking.”

Needless to say, Mihashi looked like he just heard a prophecy of his death.

“Okay, now, without scaring you to death,” continued Izumi, “You need to tell coach about this. She’ll have some useful advice for you, or hey, you never know, she might have a pitching coach among her contact who can show up and give you some pointers on how to avoid injuring yourself.”

“Or she’ll tell your mother to send you to a physiotherapist to see if everything’s alright,” continued Abe, gaining Mihashi’s focus for a few seconds before the pitcher became very much interest in his own shoes again.

“Mihashi,” Abe called, and Mihashi finally held his gaze, “I’m trying to look out for you. I don’t want you to get injured after all the hard work you’ve clearly put into your pitching. Your amazing control will be useless when you’re hurting too much to stand on the mound for us.”

The more he spoke, the more Mihashi’s gaze bore into him. He felt pinned down, hypnotized. Only Mihashi’s hand around his broke the spell. He looked down for a moment at their joined hands. He didn’t imagine it before, those were calluses on Mihashi’s hands.

“You believe… I worked hard?” whispered Mihashi with a steady tone, for once.

“Do I… You see these callouses? You see this dummy zone? You see this whole training ground? Your control, your breaking balls, your so-called fastball! I _know_ you worked yourself _ragged_ to get this good.”

It happened slowly. It happened so slowly, actually, that Izumi and the others quietly made their back inside the house.

First, Mihashi’s breaths heaved, once, twice, his mouth opening and closing in a vain attempt to get in the oxygen. His shoulders started to shake more and more. His eyes became bright and sparkly with a veil of unshed tears, which soon started to trickle down his cheeks, pooling at his chin. His hand clasped Abe’s until, finally, he released it, probably to wipe off his tears, but Abe was waiting exactly for that, and he closed in and hugged the boy tightly.

For a few moments, Abe thought he had exaggerated with his gesture of comfort. Mihashi would have been more comfortable with some distance, and a pat of shoulder would have been just fine. But before Abe could summon the resolution to move away, he felt Mihashi’s head resting fully on his shoulder, Mihashi’s nose scrunched up against his collarbone, while two shaking hands clutched his shirt tightly.

This wasn’t Mihashi’s cry from the first day. That hadn’t been crying, not really. Even when they saw the tears, that had been sniffling at best.

Now this, this heart-wrenching sound in Abe’s ears. This shaking against Abe’s chest. This was crying. This was sobbing.

.

.

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Naoe: 20180414_0001.png

Kikue: Oh my god everything okay?

Kikue: Mihashi-san??!

Naoe: Sorry its outof happines

Naoe: I needd a momn

Kikue: You take all the moments you need dear. It’s alright.

Keiko: Awww. Look at these dearies.

Mamoru: Being 15 isn’t the easiest thing. You hold in a lot of things, especially as a young man with many uncertainties about the future.

Eiko: Poor dears. We need to support them the best we can.

Kazumi: Make sure they stay healthy. Mentally and physically.

Fumiko: Support their training as well as their studies.

Kumiko: And love them lots. : )

Kiyoe: Abe-san has seen this already? Look at how her son holding on! Aw, my heart is breaking.

Misae: Oh my goodness, what did my child do this time.

Kikue: He made Ren cry out of happiness apparently, so I reckon he did something good.

Misae: Happiness? Oh thank goodness! I was so worried!

Misae: I just read the messages I missed. I’m so sorry Mihashi-san, causing you this much trouble!

Naoe: No! What trouble! They came back in for a moment. They drank some fruit juice and refreshed themselves. Now they’re doing some training thing, I don’t know. And they’re standing so close.

Naoe: 20180414_0002.png

Kikue: Awww!

Naoe: You don’t understand. It’s the first time Ren brings somebody home since kindergarten. He’s trying to speak so often with these boys he just met, and he’s standing so close to Takaya still. The rare times I visited him at school, I would arrive near the end of the team’s training. Ren would stand nowhere near his teammates, even in third year. I was so worried. And now…

Misae: I’ve always seen Taka pushing away his teammates and classmates with his gruff behavior even though he doesn’t mean no harm. Now, knowing that such a sweet-looking boy wants to befriend him. I’ll make sure Taka knows he shouldn’t bully Ren in any way. Mihashi-san, you can count on me!

Kikue: This is the best group chat I’ve ever seen.

Keiko: SAME!

**Kikue changed the group chat’s name to “AbeMiha Support Team”**

.

.

.

#  **Golden Week camp**

It’s weird how time flies by when one has a clear schedule ahead of them.

Abe talked to Shiga-sensei who got in contact with the coach, both to remind her that the students would be free of exams for four days before Golden Week (amiably renamed by the school body ‘silver week’ decades ago, before our young baseball players became students of Nishiura high school), and to relay Abe’s message about Mihashi’s pitching.

Abe shared the video taken at Tajima’s with the coach directly, his fingers shaking a bit when he inserted the phone number of his coach among his contacts.

The coach curbed their training a bit, emphasizing how they all needed good grades on their exams to be allowed to go away on team trips, but she only shortened their running time and their training regime, almost giving back that time to stretching.

“Stretching is important!” she shouted in Abe’s ear, making everyone around him jump, which was everybody on the team.

Between stretching, running, working out, and in the battery’s case, pitching 50 pitches a day, plus exams and plenty of relaxation on the weekends, their independent training period ended with everybody being on friendly terms with one another.

Although Abe still couldn’t understand 90% of what Mihashi mumbled, Tajima, Sakaeguchi, and Izumi, in this order of their grasp of Mihashi’s ‘language,’ were always ready to bridge the gap for him.

Their four days of training as a team were filled with meditation, running, and working out, so the only thing that changed was basically the meditation.

Oh, and the girl manager.

Because now they had a girl manager.

Which was totally normal for a baseball club.

And didn’t freak anybody out. Not one little bit.

Everybody changed as fast as possible and as close to their lockers’ door as possible for two days.

But nobody was freaked out at all.

The way the Coach frowned at Mihashi’s pitching didn’t sit well with Abe at all either.

.

.

.

It all went to shit when Coach laughed at Mihashi’s pitch’s speed. Abe reckoned their coach was very young, but even he had thought that laughing in Mihashi’s face wasn’t the greatest idea.

But it was alright, Coach didn’t know Mihashi’s house at all. She probably didn’t understand the extent of Mihashi’s hard work. She had promised she had spoken to a pitching coach whom she knew well, but that didn’t mean she had tried to put herself in Mihashi’s shoes.

And just as Abe had found a way to make it to Koushien and then possibly become a pro, here came Momoe to put ideas into Mihashi’s mind. And not one minute later, here was Mihashi ignoring him already.

From that failed wind-up and speed test, Mihashi was high-strung, depressed, and didn’t sleep a wink. It was so obvious Abe wanted to have some sleeping pill on him to slip it into Mihashi’s meals. But that was probably illegal in Japan, not mentioning immoral.

The role of the catcher?

What did Coach mean by that?

The role of the catcher was calling the shots.

However, as he laid in his futon beside Mihashi’s, listening to his rapid breaths and occasional dry heaves, Abe couldn’t help but imagine what Mihashi was thinking.

Maybe Abe could apply what Coach had conveyed to him earlier. …Whatever that akward, confusing hand-holding moment had been...

Without thinking about it too much, he brought his hand over the blanket and patted Mihashi’s futon, close to his body. That would have been enough to be noticeable, but Mihashi remained stone-still, his breaths hitching every now and then.

Stomping on his irritation (guy didn’t even know how to accept comfort!), he leaned over and let his hand rest, slowly, on Mihashi’s body. His side, probably, or his chest, or arm. Abe wasn’t sure, the blanket was quite thick.

Finally, he felt Mihashi moving underneath his palm. He had to lift his hand for a few moments to allow Mihashi to untangle his arm properly, but when he let it rest back on the blanket, he felt a tiny point of contact near his pinkie.

Not wanting to spook Mihashi more than he had already done, Abe waited, motionless. Soon enough, Mihashi let his hand rest on his.

It was so cold.

Abe had tried but couldn’t imagine what was spooking Mihashi so. Coach laughing at his pitching certainly didn’t help. Was it something that Abe had said? He had told Mihashi that he was fine like that, losing control over speed would have been a bad trade-off, Mihashi didn’t need to change.

He had meant to reassure Mihashi about his skills, but obviously he didn’t. Why would Mihashi want to change so much? Change was scary, one didn’t know if change would bring negative or positive results. And Mihashi had settled in a comfortable set of skills which Abe could use to get the team to victory and notoriety.

Possibly, Mihashi was still hung up about what Coach had said in the beginning, about changing his personality? Mihashi was very shy and lacked self-confidence, but he looked confident enough during their pitching practice. So it’s not like it was that critical to change his personality.

But still… Mihashi was clearly deeply troubled by it.

Abe shifted his hand long enough to return Mihashi’s grip.

Abe fell asleep as Mihashi’s hand felt barely less cold then the beginning. Instead of Mihashi calming down a bit, Abe suspected it was simply his body heat transferring to Mihashi’s.

.

.

.

Kikue: Here comes the big day everyone!

Misae: Their first game!

Kikue: @Naoe, show everybody how well you stitched Ren’s uniform!

Naoe: It’s so sloppy, it’s embarrassing!

Misae: I’m sure it’s a fine piece of work Mihashi-san, especially for a beginner!

Kumiko: I’m not going to judge, I’m no good with stitching here.

Kumiko: Here, look.

Kumiko: 180425_001.png

Kiyoe: It’s good Oki-san!

Suyama: Good job Oki-san!

Mamoru: 20180425-0001.jpg

Mamoru: Your work can’t be more sloppy than mine, Mihashi-san.

Keiko: Why are you putting yourselves down this way? Everything looks neat!

Naoe: Those are fine works.

Naoe: While mine…

Naoe: 20180425_0001.png

Misae: It looks fine!

Naoe: It’s all crooked! Loot at the upper right corner! It’s about to fall off!

Misae: I hadn’t noticed until you pointed it out!

Kikue: Apart from everybody’s FINE stitching works, is everyone all right to get to Mihoshi Academy?

Kikue: I mean, everybody who is free to come. I’m so sorry you can’t come Izumi-san, Nishihiro-san.

Keiko: I’m glad they scheduled it on a Saturday, but I have a deadline.

Kazumi: Same. Deadlines will be the death of me.

Kikue: Everybody else. Remember. Plenty of food and water, some first-aid supplies in case somebody gets hurt and the club’s infirmary room isn’t well-stocked. Cameras and back-up batteries. Recording order is me, Sakeguchi-san, Mihashi-san, and Abe-san. Everybody else is back-up. Make sure to include hats and sunglasses in your bags. The boys are scheduled to arrive at Mihoshi at 8:30. Game should start around 9.

Misae: And empty bottles for cheering.

Naoe: Empty bottles?

Misae: Clapping for three hours is not ideal. You can use empty bottles instead of your hands, or plastic bats. But considering some of us are not baseball fans, I guess you wouldn’t have plastic bats at home.

Kikue: This is a practice game arranged in a hurry, a renowned school against a no-name first-years-only unknown team. They’re probably going to use their reserves, or their first years. Meaning there won’t be many people on their stands instead of parents. I fear we’d make too much of a ruckus with prospering cheering gear. I don’t want to be thrown out!

Eiko: Thrown out?

Izumi: Members of the audience who make a ruckus needlessly, such as constantly shouting directions to certain players, or making sudden loud noises with no pattern or reason, they’re accused of disrupting the players’ concentration and depending on the umpire team, they can be asked to wait outside.

Kazumi: Umpire team?

Misae: The referees. For tennis, cricket, baseball and a couple other sports, they’re called umpire.

Kikue: They’re the Law.

Kikue: So, any questions?

…

Kikue: Okay I’ll see you all tomorrow then! Izumi-san, Nishihiro-san, we’ll take plenty of pictures and we’ll record every second!

Keiko: Please! I’m counting on you!

Kazumi: Thank you so much, I’ll be in your debt!

.

.

.

#  **At Mihoshi**

The morning the team arrived at Mihoshi was damp and cool, with little puffy white clouds strolling in the sky leisurely.

The breeze was almost non-existent, and Abe was glad for it. He had played a few games with strong winds, and some types of pitches could be affected by the gusts.

Mihoshi Academy looked like any other old high school, though it was definitely bigger than Nishiura, and the baseball grounds were well-kept. The fence was probably four times higher than the one they had, the diamond was covered by the special soil Abe was used to in junior high, and the stands looked old but neatly-kept.

The boys’ parents arrived shortly after them, immediately fussing over their sons for a good five minutes, much to everybody’s embarrassment.

Abe was immensely grateful that his mom had brought him a clean glove for his soulmate’s words, whose thoughts had been extremely depressing and self-deprecating the past four days of camp. He hadn’t expected to get his hands dirty so much, and he was out of clean gloves.

In his peripheral vision, he saw as Mihashi’s mother half-shielded his son’s body as he changed his arm-band. Mihashi’s soulmate’s words appeared on the inside of his right arm, below his armpit. Abe found it hilarious that his words were visible to Mihashi when he did a proper wind-up.

The parents made their way to the stands, much smaller and lower than everybody had expected, while the team settled down for the warm up.

Mihashi was more freaked out than ever, every single of his pitches was off, and he didn’t even bother to confirm where they land, or whether they landed. He kept stealing panicked glances at the side door to the grounds.

Abe didn’t notice them immediately, he noticed Mihashi tensing and turning around and starting to run. Then he turned around and noticed them. Mihoshi students. Among them there were Mihashi’s old teammates.

One of them was still retracting his arm from what Abe assumed must have been a greeting. Then he saw a couple of others boys talk, the short guy replied, and the boys started after Mihashi too.

Abe didn’t like their looks.

He made his way to the bench, stomping on his frustration. He pulled his mask off so forcefully he almost hurt himself with it.

“Abe, temper,” said somebody beside him. Abe turned around, biting back a snarl. He was so frustrated he didn’t the others. Mizutani had spoken, while Tajima, and Oki were looking at him closely too.

“Temper my ass. Mihashi just ran off.”

“Seriously? What did you tell him?”

“Nothing. He saw the Mihoshi students coming in and took off like his pants were on fire.”

Tajima was about to say something, but Abe backed off, “I’m going after him.”

Just then Sakeguchi approached the bench with a nervous smile.

“Guys. I overheard one of the Mihoshi guys asking where one of theirs was, dunno the name, and one of them replied ‘he went after Mihashi’ and the one said ‘if he gets reported for assault we can’t go to Koushien!’”

Abe felt a cold shiver running down his spine and he took off at once. When he was close to their side’s gate he heard several footsteps behind him, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care if it was one of the others who was trying to stop him, or even the Coach.

Outside the field, there were the club house, and a building he guessed was the storeroom. He walked by the first building and heard a voice, guiding him.

“-think we’d forgive you all those losses?”

THWACK!

“Your pitching is pathetic, when will you understand that?”

THWACK!

To Abe’s ears the sound came from behind a shrubbery beside the western side of the storeroom. He felt that he was gritting his teeth so tightly his jaw was hurting, but he didn’t care. He was one second from punching someone.

“Do I need to break your arm for you to understand? HUH?”

Abe didn’t know anything anymore. He knew only the catcher gear in front of his eyes, a light blue uniform, a wide back, a shaved head. He grabbed the uniform and tugged it with all his strength.

“What-“

The boy fell on his ass beside Abe, but he didn’t care. Mihashi was shaking ball in front of him, a huddled, shaking shape, hunched in as much as humanly possible, scrunched up against the wall.

After Abe’s heartbeat stopped thudding in his ears, he heard Mihashi’s dry heaving, shook himself out of his reverie and crouched beside Mihashi.

Would touch him set him off or reassure him? Would he be even responsive to words?

Had his catcher threatened him often? Was he bullied like this every day at training, after every loss?

“Mihashi,” he said, ignoring the boy’s full body wince. “I have no idea what to tell you to make you feel better right now. It wouldn’t be something I haven’t told you already. You’re a good pitcher, you developed an incredible set of breaking balls, your fastball is unique, your accuracy is perfect, to heck with speed. Plus, your stubbornness about the mound is a healthy one, it means you have nerves of steel, you’re not defeated easily, you have the strength to pick yourself up and keep going after every hurdle.”

Mihashi raised his head, his eyes and nose were splotchy and he was still dry heaving, but at least his clear light brown eyes were focused on him now.

“I won’t pretend to understand what the three years you spent here were like for you, but if you don’t want to pitch today, I… I’d understand. We can speak to Momokan together.”

“I!” Mihashi’s loud voice startled Abe into silence. “I-I-I-I want to… pitch!”

“Mh. That’s why I like you. Not just as a pitcher, but as a person!”

Color seeped into Mihashi’s cheecks and tears stopped running down his eyes.

“If you want to pitch… I’ll… I’ll help you,” said Abe, the memory of big warm hands around him in the back of his mind. The question: what is the role of the catcher? Was this the role of the catcher? Did he assume wrongly all these years?

“I’ll help you Mihashi. It’s what I’m here for. As your teammate, as your catcher, and if you wish as your friend too. We can become a great battery together. If you want to add speed to your pitches, I can adjust to your new training. Even if you lose your amazing control, I can still catch your pitches. I’ll also try to change. I’ll try to keep in mind where you come from and where you want to go. Let’s become a great battery together. What do you think?”

“I’ll… I’ll…! Train hard, for Abe-kun! Abe-kun… is… amazing! I… won’t… let you down! I’ll… I’ll pitch… I… I love pitching for you!”

“Mh. Thank you. Now, let’s go win our first victory.”

He tugged Mihashi upright after Mihashi blew out his nose and quickly wiped his tear-streak cheeks. When he made to let go, however, Mihashi held onto his hand.

“I-I-I-I like Abe-kun too! A-A-As a catcher! And…And… as a person!”

Abe was unsure what to reply. It was something to tell someone that you liked him as a person, but it was another thing to hear it. For some reason he didn’t mind saying it. He was used to saying whatever he thought. He wasn’t so used to hearing people dump their own feelings on him. Especially if they were positive. He was used to sneers, taunts, and scolding. Not so used to praises.

When he turned, Abe was surprised to see Oki in the shrubbery, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable.

Abe honestly forgot all about the others. He didn’t hear the catcher scum going away. Did Oki remain to make sure Abe didn’t aggravate the situation? He had mixed feelings about this scenario. It spoke of Oki’s mistrust towards Abe, but also of his protectiveness towards Mihashi. Abe thought Mihashi could use some more people on his corner.

“Here,” said Oki, offering them one of the energetic drinks their parents had brought. “Tajima and Sakaeguchi went ahead to say you got lost on your way to the loo or something, I dunno, they said they’ll handle it. We should go back n- Oh, Abe, your words are uncovered.”

Abe instinctively turned his hand and held it to his chest, palm out, as he had learned to do back then in kindergarten, when he’d finally notice that he’d forgotten to put on his glove after washing his hand.

He let Mihashi bypass him and took a peek at his hand. He read the intermittent words:

_I’m not alone_

_I’m not alone_

_I’m not alone_

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.

.

#  **Nishiura vs Mihoshi**

The game began with the cheering of the parents of both teams and with Mihashi what he knew about the players. They were all first years apparently, and the Mihoshi Coach wasn’t the one pictured in the Mihoshi high school baseball club’s website.

A substitute, most likely. Abe scrutinized Momokan to see if the information offended her, but she seemed as excited as any of them. Right, this was her first game as a Coach. Abe didn’t know whether he’d follow her orders to the letter. The perception of a game was very different inside from outside, Abe knew it well.

“Abe,” Suyama called. “We saw their pitcher pitching a forkball earlier on.”

“How do you know?”

“I came back basically with the catcher,” quipped Tajima, holding his gaze for a few moments, meaningfully, thought Abe had no idea what that meaning was supposed to be. “Their pitches showed us the grip of the forkball even, so we would know 100%.”

A moment of silence fell on the bench.

“Mockery?” he asked Mihashi, who got startled by being addressed.

“Not-Not-Not the type.”

“A challenge then,” said Hanai, adjusting his uniform. “This is my winning pitch, see if you can hit it.”

“That’s good then,” replied Tajima, earning himself a couple of questioning glances. “Means they’re serious.”

“Well we’re serious too. I want to keep my ace.”

“Our ace, Abe.”

Your ace too, but mine first. Abe thought, but didn’t say.

After being struck out, Mihashi helped Abe put on his gear. From his vantage position, he noticed then that the band that covered Mihashi’s soulmate’s words had a middle portion made of transparent fabric. Apparently, Abe wasn’t the only who was reassured by his soulmate’s thoughts when he played, he mused, as he pocketed his glove and put on his mitt.

His soulmate’s words alternated:

_I’m not alone_

_I want to pitch_

_I’m not alone_

_I’m going to pour everything into my pitches_

Right before his first inning as a catcher in high school, Abe thought about his soulmate and swore to become the best catcher his soulmate had ever seen, so he would want to pitch for Abe out of his volition, and not merely because they were soulmates.

During the practice pitches, Mihashi looked pale and panicked, but not so much as before. Clearly, Abe’s words behind the storehouse hadn’t gone to waste.

The moment the umpire announced the beginning of their inning, though, something changed. It was a sense of comfort and familiarity. Abe felt the irrational sensation that he had been Mihashi’s catcher for a long time, and that this was the latest of a high number of games.

Abe shook his head and called the game through his signs. It was show time.

.

.

.

“Hey, Abe,” said Mizutani, approaching him right after they got to the bench at the end of the first inning.

“Their pitcher was explaining the trajectory of some pitches to the clean-up hitter.”

Shit. “Well, it was to expected, these are Mihashi’s ex-teammates. I also thought his ex-catcher would have been the most troublesome, but it seems like they’re not all taking this match seriously.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“What do you mean by ‘what do you mean’?”

Mizutani looked put out for a moment. “Well, I mean, their clean-up hitter must be a beginner in baseball if he needs to be explained the pitches, right? Thought I’d tell you to ease your mind off of things.”

 _You’re not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you?_ Thought Abe, sighing. “Some beginners put an incredible amount of power in their batting since they’re not properly concerned about injuries, so I can see how that foul ball looked like a beginner’s to you. But believe me, he’s not. This guy’s a veteran. Kanou, their pitcher, wasn’t explaining pitches in general, he was explaining Mihashi’s pitches. I bet my mitt on it.”

“So what’s the plan?” asked Hanai behind him. Turning around, he noticed his conversation with Mizutani had gained quite the audience.

“The plan is still confusing them with inside and outside pitches, and not letting them get used to Mihashi’s fastball, and not showing it too often. It’s one thing knowing when to bat, but it’s another thing being actually at-bat against the actual pitches. From what I’ve seen so far they’re not even batting seriously.”

In the following moment of silence, Abe bit back his sigh. Sighing wasn’t going to do any good.

“Let’s watch out for the pitcher and the clean-up in particular. Everybody else, let’s get them out without overthinking it, does that sound good?”

After everybody’s assent, the top of the second inning began and ended quite quickly. Though Abe commended Mihoshi’s pitcher’s dedication as he even tried to steal first base head-first, what a careless pitcher, Abe couldn’t help but feeling a bit smug at the shouting match between the pitcher and that bastard of a catcher.

That catcher deserved all the arguments a person could possible get in one match. As long as Mihashi thought that they won this match fairly, Abe didn’t care about the rift in the opponent’s battery.

The argument clearly muddled Kanou’s mindset,  and he started throwing ball after ball.

Abe didn’t care about him either, as long as Mihashi would stop sympathizing with the freaking opponent! That moment irritated Abe so much that he didn’t trust himself to speak, else he was bound to lose control over his volume and cause a scene, and worse, break the fragile harmony he built with Mihashi.

After Tajima scored, and Kanou let another batter walk, the team had such a loud argument that Abe was sure that in the Mihoshi dug-out there was going to be heads rolling pretty soon.

The argument ended in a team cheering, though. And Mihashi’s face as he stared made Abe’s nerves jump out of his skin.

Mihashi was obviously fidgeting like he wanted to be part of Mihoshi’s circle again.  He wanted to return to his old teammates, no matter whatever cruel, horrible things they said or even did to him.

However, Abe wanted a pitcher as well! He found Mihashi, out of a no-name school, taking his chances with a first years only team to mold the pitcher however he wanted. He figured out Mihashi’s set of skills first, treasured them first, wanted them for himself and the team first. And now that he understood what the role of the catcher was, no way he was going to let Mihashi go without putting up one hell of a fight!

During the top of fifth inning it became clear that the team-wide argument they had on the mound earlier settled Kanou pretty well, his pitching was very accurate.

The bottom of the fifth inning worried Abe since the Kansai dialect boy was at-bat again. His range was remarkable, his form was nearly perfect, and his batting was powerful. He let Mihashi’s curveball whiz by, and Abe had to repress his urge to tell Mihashi that he would never get such a strike from such a clean-up hitter with Mihoshi’s catcher.

The top of the sixth inning showed promise. Mihoshi’s battery showed a bit of intelligence in walking Tajima, but Hanai didn’t hit Kanou’s curveball quite right.

“Tha-That was close,” murmured Mihashi as Abe adjusted his gear. “Bu-But… we can score… more runs… right?”

Abe hummed, musing whether what he wanted to say would impact well or horribly.

“And you’re fine if even your precious Kanou hits the ball. Right?”

Abe looked at the field as he said that, his skin prickling anxiously in the silence which ensued.

“Go... ahead… and bat… I’m not… Mihoshi’s… ally…”

Abe didn’t like the tone of that at all, but when he turned around Mihashi flushed all over and didn’t look at him, as was his usual.

“Well then, let’s go and play it tight!”

“M-Mh!”

Mihashi was inscrutable most of the time, and the bottom of the sixth inning revealed nothing.

Of course, Mihashi looked happy at dominating the game against Mihoshi, but he was still jittery and shifty. Not so much as at the beginning of the match, of course, so Abe mused that this maybe was Mihashi’s default state during a match. It wasn’t ideal, but his control was still pin-point accurate, apart from the couple more full-power pitches he asked out of Mihashi, which nearly went and became dead balls.

The top of the seventh inning was uneventful. Abe wanted Mihashi to see that he could win big if he stayed with Nishiura, but this was beyond his control.

“They’re arguing again,” called Izumi in the dugout.

Abe turned, adjusting his mitt, and truly enough, the Mihoshi dugout seemed to be on fire.

“Let’s get out there and see if we can understand what they’re arguing about.”

Thus, the team got on the grounds earlier than usual, and at the end of the break, Abe called a meeting on the mound.

“So?”

“They were talking about Mihashi’s pitches. The clean-up hitter and the pitcher were talking a lot. I didn’t hear anything specific,” said Tajima with his usual nonchalance.

In the middle of the circle, Mihashi shook. Abe held out his hand. Mihashi’s hand was getting cold.

“It’s alright. Let’s be extra careful with the clean up hitter. Let’s defend well. Mihashi, just focus on your pitching.”

Mihashi nodded, looking at Abe, which was a good signal. But then Tajima had to open his big mouth.

“At this rate you’ll have a perfect game!”

 _For fuck’s sake, Tajima!_ Abe glared at the ground. Why did he say that? Mihashi would feel the pressure and crumble like a house of cards! What was Abe supposed to do with people who curbed his attempt at relaxing Mihashi every five seconds?!

“Maa, don’t worry Mihashi. Even if you don’t go home with a perfect game, we’ve already seen that you’re a great pitcher. You’ve been pitching really well.”

Thank the deities for Sakaeguchi. Abe sighed in relief as Mihashi flushed and grinned, like a lunatic, but better than the contrary.

After a round of agreement, the team split up, leaving Mihashi grinning and swaying in happiness on the mound. Ok, so these teammates were good for something, thought Abe.

The bottom of the seventh began as well as the others. Two outs, no runners. The third batter couldn’t hit Mihashi’s     fastball to the lower left corner accurately, it was going straight into Mizutani’s mitt.

A step too close!

“Damn you Mizutani!” Abe’s jaw sparked with pain by how tightly he ground his teeth. That was an error, it didn’t count as a hit. But goddamn, Tajima had been right, this could turn into a perfect game, Abe saw that since the third inning. That crappy Left!

Served him right to choose a no-name school with all first-years, with some of them being complete beginners!

Oda, the clean-up hitter, hadn’t swung once for outside balls. They would alternate between outside and inside curves again, that would still work. No matter what Kanou told them, the hitters were thrown off by the afterimage of Mihashi’s pitches and the alternation between inside and outside wasn’t easy to shake off.

An outside curveball, first.

He swung!

Maybe he was checking if he could reach it? That would play right into Abe’s hand, though. Next, was an inside-

ARGH!

Pain shot in the back of his hand, making Abe jump upright. For a moment Abe feared he had been stung by an insect, a bee, or a wasp. That would have sucked, they didn’t have a reserve catcher!

Then… he realized the burn was located right where his words were. He had heard about this, his parents warned him when he was still a kid. His soulmate’s words would be painful when his soulmate’s wanted communicate with him through the words. It was a very difficult thing to do, and the result was successful only if his soulmate would feel very strongly about what he wanted to convey.

But that was possible only after soulmates met. Oh, crap, did he met his soulmate somewhere in the streets and didn’t realize it? Although he didn’t want a first-glance romance or anything like that, Abe at least wanted to know who his soulmate was.

He looked at his hand through the pain and got his answer.

_The batter just closed his eyes!_

_He just swung with his eyes closed!_

_We’re gonna get hit!_

Abe felt like the world had tilted on its axis, like the earth had moved a bit to the right, unbalancing him and his own every thought. Mihashi was his soulmate?!

“What is it?” the home base umpire asked.

“Time! Time, please!” Abe called, suddenly realizing that he just stood up in the middle of the game.

He walked up to Mihashi with his mind in chaos. Could the words be a coincidence? No, that would be making up excuses. Why would he do that?  He had always thought his soulmate was a great pitcher, hard-working and underestimated. And Mihashi was exactly that.

However, without any excuse to back up his imagination, Abe had always imagined a steady character for his soulmate. Brooding perhaps, or just quiet. Not the whimpering mess that was Mihashi.

Mihashi looked at him like Abe had grown a second head and Abe realized he was staring.

But, words couldn’t come to him. This was his soulmate. He found him. Shouldn’t that had been a life-changing moment? Many people didn’t feel anything when they met their soulmates, but he had hoped he wouldn’t be one of them.

What did he feel when he first saw Mihashi?

He couldn’t think of anything apart from the thought that Mihashi had fair hair and a very slim body to play baseball.

Abe stomped on his disappointment. What a moronic hypocrite he was. Didn’t he think that, even if he wanted to feel a momentous sensation the moment he met his soulmate, he didn’t want to be one of those people who walked up to their soulmate and demanded to enter a relationship immediately?

He couldn’t enter any kind of intimate relationship, or even a platonic one, without getting to know a person first. Spurred by this thought, Abe spoke,

“Mihashi, you looked seriously spooked a while ago. What’s wrong?”

Somewhere in the back of Abe’s mind, he was still thinking that the words burning on the back of his hand had been coincidental, and didn’t pertain to the current situation. How very wrong he was.

“The-The-The batter… swung… wi-with… his eyes closed.”

Abe closed _his_ own eyes for a moment to regain hits wits. Okay, Mihashi was his soulmate. He had all the time in the world to think about it more closely. For now, they had Oda to strike out.

“Okay. When something like that happens, when you notice something about the batter that you think I can’t see, tap your chest twice with your mitt, I’ll call time and come talk to you. No matter how many times, call me and talk to me alright? Also, you know these guys better than I do, if you think they’re going to hit one of your pitches, shake your head at me, alright?”

Mihashi shook his head so fast Abe worried about the whiplash.

“Abe-kun…. Said… you hate… pitchers who… shake their heads.”

“Yeah I have issues with that, we’ll talk about that later. Let’s think about winning this game. In this game, if you think that the batter will hit it, then shake your head. I’ll try to understand why you think so and even if I don’t I’ll work around your decision. Ok?”

When Mihashi kept staring at him and shaking, Abe thought about what would have worked here to jolt Mihashi out of his reverie. He suddenly remembered how Mihashi jolted every time somebody called him by his name at Tajima’s and took the risk.

“Oi? Ren?”

It worked.

“Y-Yes! I will!”

“Alright, I’m counting on you!” said Abe retreating to home base, followed by a sound of assent.

Their teammates and parents cheered them on.

Abe squatted behind home plate, and smirked.

The match had just begun.

.

**.**

**.**

**Fin**


End file.
